


Rough Seas, Dave

by BL4R1233



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Fluff, It's hard, It's hard tagging and no one understands, Kissing, M/M, Mermaidstuck, Merstuck, johndave - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-02-09 02:09:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1964919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BL4R1233/pseuds/BL4R1233
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life's pretty easy underneath the waves. You have your family, your friends, the reef, and everything you could ever want.<br/>Well, except one thing you never really expected to need: love.</p><p>Even more unexpected? It's with a human. Named John.</p><p>Sigh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ==> Look Into His Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah I know I have 2 series I should be working on but I recently go into merstuck and I LOVE IT SO MUCH so yes he's the beginnings of something I hope will be fantastic!  
> Enjoy~

Prologue  
~~~~~~~

 

It’s sweet and longing and pure and true.

They know with the seal of their lips that this was meant to be, a love unlike any other tucked softly into Fate’s pocket, to be nurtured and housed. He knows it and she knows it. 

They know it, even though as he whispers that he’s hers forever, fear pricks the edge of his mind. They know it even though as she hisses urgently back words of requited love her senses are on fire. She should not be here. 

She should no t be he re.

S h e s h o u l d n o t b e h e r e.

S h s o u ld n t b h e .

But she is, and they are, and for right now that is perfect.  
~*~  
The nights bleed into one another and slowly—reluctantly—the tensions ease. The darkness isn’t so dreadful anymore, and despite her best efforts to stay alert it is simply impossible when he’s so overwhelming. 

His hands find the spot beneath her ear that makes her strangle back a sigh, and she kisses him, softly. The moment is a lovely infinity. But this one was not meant to last.

“Traitor.” The voice is sharp, one she knows so well, yet the reaction it dregs up is horror in its rawest form. She breaks away from her lover, whose hearing is not as acute. He gives her a curious look.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is slightly pitched, disappointed in the sudden release. There is no time to explain.

“They’re here—” she tries to warn him but he’s too slow, too water-logged to move correctly. Meeting here was a mistake, a huge, huge mistake. There’s no way he can escape. The pool is far too deep—how did she not notice before??

There is no time. There is no struggle. In a surge of tide and snap of bone, she watches helplessly as the light in his eyes disappears. A scream pierces the calm of the night.

It was a pure love. It was a true love.

But oh so forbidden.

 

Chapter 1

((Dave. Dave get up.))

((Nnnnnggg.))

((Dave.))

((Two mur mins Bro, shi. Cn’t a man get sim z’s?)) Your head is still foggy for God’s sake, what time is it even? You reach out to test the water—it’s still high tide! What the fuck?  
((Mmbro. Bro stop Godfeelthetideitssoearly.))

No response. Did that actually work? If so, you’re sleep-deprived-plea might actually have been pitiful enough for him to actually listen for once and—

((I said up.)) Without so much as a warning, you are shoved over and sent tumbling head-over-fin down the side of the precipice. Stifling a yelp—because you DON’T yelp, you don’t—you attempt to right yourself, successfully scraping your *whole fucking tail* on the side of the cliff. 

So what, you yelp. Big deal, that fucking hurt.

Shut up.

Finally, FINALLY, you catch your bearings and manage to level yourself. Gritting your teeth for the confrontation, you propel yourself up back to the mouth of your cave. 

You are greeted with your Bro, barely managing to hold back a laugh.

((Sonofabitch. You could’ve drowned me.)) you say as coolly as possible. A stray hair floats down in front of your face and you jerk your hand up, smacking yourself in the face. So smooth, best coolkid.

((Hey, not my fault your dumbass self likes to sleep by the edge. This was inevitable, little guy,)) Bro says, messing with some dumb new obsession. The guy gets one like, what, every other full moon? Recently he’s taken to scavenging objects and gluing them together with hag fish slime—living on a precipice gives easy access—to make puppets. It’s pretty fucking disgusting, but he’s proud of them, and you guess as long as he has something to keep him busy. Seriously, he tries to keep cool but really the dude kinda scares you when he gets antsy.

((Shut up.)) You say, not really paying attention. You’re too busy looking at the monstrosity he’s got in his hands—the thing has the round head of a dead sponge and big, round seashells for eyes. So fucking creepy.  
((Why’d you wake me up anyway,)) snapping into focus, you remember that you’re supposed to be pissed, ((Do you not FEEL the tide? It must be sunrise, Jesus.))

He dismisses your complaint with a flick of his tail.

((Rezi’s waiting for you.))

Upon hearing her name, blush quickly rises to your cheeks and you silently curse yourself. His eyes are still glued to his little ‘project’ but you saw his knowing smirk. Quickly, you compose your passive face. You feel the blush leave almost as quickly as it came.

Damn, you’re good.

((Oh. Well if that’s the case I guess I can put of whooping your ass in a strife for the totally uncool and rude awakening. Gotta swim, Bro.)) It’s easy to maneuver in the large cave, and in a flash you’ve turned around and propelled yourself out into the open water.

Shit, it really IS sunrise. Looking up, you can just see the purply-orange of the distorted sky above. The water is also pretty damn dark still, you realize, and it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. Not that there’s much to adjust to.

The scene before you is vast, vaguely terrifying, (not that you’d ever admit it) and dark as fuck, even with your vision keener than most marine mammals. Of course, the reason why you have to live on the edge of this precipice is because Bro is totally weird, and one day pried you from the colorful, safe sanctuary most of the clan lived in and plopped you as far away as possible. When confronted he said it was because it was “unprecedented levels of irony” that the two coolest mer would live in such a detached, desolate area.

You had called bullshit, but it wasn’t like you could do anything. Considered a minor, you couldn’t really move back until you were eighteen. Because mer laws or some other shit.

Fortunately, you were sventeen and soon that wouldn’t matter. Also, the Cliffside you called home was just on the edge of the Clan’s territory, which meant only a 20 minute swim back to the sanctuary.

With Bro’s promise of the Strife of Your Life slipping into your mind, you pump your tail and rocket up and over the cliff. For a good mile there’s nothing but bare rock, but you know that it gives away to coral and seaweed and life and holy hell knowing that makes you feel better already. 

After a solid ten minutes of swimming, the reef embraces you with its calming presence ((Shhh Child you’re home it’s safe safe safe why’d you ever leave silly Child?)) Of course, you know you can only communicate telepathically with your own kind, but the Voice of the reef is a real and definite thing. It envelopes the area and sooths your nerves. Hell, you didn’t even know you were tense in the first place.

Stupid Bro dragging you to the edge of nothing.

As you swim, the sun finally starts climbing with some damn confidence and the water warms considerably. It’s warmth shakes off the last of your sleep and you push deeper into the reef, following the pull of the Voice ((You’re almost there you’re almost home.))

And you know she’s there too, even though you almost completely swim right past her. 

((Hey, coolkid.)) Her voice penetrates your mind and you try your best to surge to a stop and—  
Bad idea Dave. Instead of breaking and banking out in one fluid motion, your tail flails and sends you spinning in a circle. Who knew you could get dizzy so easily? Certainly not you.

You can practically hear the grin in her voice.

((Greaaaaat job, Dave. Tell me, what’s the name of that one?))

((The slip-in-spin, what else were you expecting? All the rage up North. Get with the times, Rezi.)) You reply, not missing a beat. She doesn’t even bother to stifle a bubbly laugh.

Finally you manage to find which way is up and right yourself. Damn, two tumbles in one day. You’re so graceful. You are the Graceful one.

It only takes you a moment to spot your friend, bent over in the sand. It’s easy to see how you overlooked her, jeez she’s like pressed to the fucking floor, almost completely masked by the outstretched coral surrounding her. You probably wouldn’t be able to see her at all if not for her light orange hair drifting in the current.

((Why’re you pressed to the fucking floor?)) You ask, never one to beat around the bush.

((Dave, you *have* to see this. Look what I found!))

((Oh God is this what I was pushed over the cliff for at High-Tide-O’clock in the morning? Another one of your would-be pets?)) You maneuver around and under the skeletal structures, careful of your speed this time, ((I mean My God Terezi, you find one of these things every other day. It’s always “Dave come look at this” or “Dave come look at that,” never “Oh hey Dave want to hang out like normal mer teens do and frolic in the tide pools while trying not to eye each other inappropriately ‘cause hormones and shit?” Man, that sounds like a good idea. Let’s do anything but thi—OH MY FUCK.))

Your fucking flight instincts are kicked into overdrive when an enormous monster strikes from the coral and TRIES TO EAT YOUR FACE. Luckily, you have your insane best friend with you and she plucks the damn thing up like it’s the world’s most adorable angelfish.

((Your assistance is appreciated mister Strider,)) she shoots you a shark-toothed grin while you work on steadying your heart beat, ((I just *knew* you would aggravate it enough for it to come out!))

((You called me out here so I could be your FISH BAIT? Wow, some friend.)) Your voice is *almost* level. Almost. Good, because you may have thought you were going to faitn there for a second, and that would almost be as bad as getting caught out by a blue mako in front of Terezi. She’d hold that shit over your head for the rest of your life.

((Not just *any* fish bait coolkid,)) you swear she fucking purrs when she strokes the thing in her hand ((*Moray eel* fish bait.))

((As if that makes it any better.))

((I’ve always wanted one,)) she says like you never spoke, ((Thanks Dave.))

That alone almost makes this morning worth it.  
~*~  
Your name is Dave Strider and holy shit it’s hard to travel with a moray. After Rezi apologized (she totally didn’t mean it) you can to help her wrestle it into a whale-skin bag. It would definitely hold the writhing sonofabitch, it was tough enough to resist the shark-tooth knives it took to skin the mammal when it half-beached the year before, but the problem was really keeping it in there.

Because as it turns out, eels REALLY don’t like it when you kidnap them and shove them in a bag. Who would’ve known.

After struggling to swim back to Rezi’s home, (a sweet caved-in chunk of reef her family passed down through generations) and nearly dropping the bag five times, the two of you finally manage to wiggle into the space with the eel still alive and pissed.

((So now--)) gasp ((what do you plan)) wheeze ((to do with this damn thing?))

Damn you’re tired. No sleep plus angry fish equals pissy Dave. She better have a plan now that you’ve actually managed to get it here.

You watch her for a moment and allow her to get a breather. The gills along her neck pump water and oxygen frantically as she regains her concentration. It’s pretty hard to use telepathy when you’re exhausted, so you don’t blame the long while it takes for her to finally speak. In the meantime, you flop carelessly on the soft sand of the cave.

((I…I have. A hole.))

You raise an eyebrow. ((No shit.)) This earns you a smack with her freaky-strong tail. 

Okay, you kinda deserved that.

((A hole in the coral you idiot.)) She frowns, but swims over you to the far back of her home. Curious to see if she actually planned for this, you tilt your head up up up to watch her take the bag and quickly push the opening up against the wall. 

The eel’s defined shape clearly exits the bag, and when she pulls it back she does so with a shit-eating grin on her face. Looks like she really *did* have a plan for what to do with this thing. 

((See? It’s just big enough for her to call it home.))

((Her?))

((It’s totally a girl Dave.))

((Whatever you say, Rezi,)) you say back, and shove yourself up from the sand. Damn, and you were just getting comfortable.  
((Hey, it’s been a great time and all, really, but I need to get back home so Bro can do his actually fucking job as a guardian and feed his precious little man child. He kinda just…shoved me out of bed this morning.)) You explain quickly, fingers ghosting over your tail where the scales scraped over rock.

Terezi doesn’t seem to mind, she’s too busy watching her precious little monster.  
((Mmmhmm.))

((Bye.))

((Yep.))

((This is me, leaving.))

((Gotcha.))

((I’ll just be on my way then.))

(Dave!)) She snaps, and you permit a small smile, leaning casually back on your tail. Rezi sighs dramatically and turns to face you. Huh. There’s a hint of a smile. Weren’t expecting that.  
((Thanks, coolkid. Really. Go stuff your skinny face, I’ll pester you later, okay?))

You’re exit acknowledged, (That’s all you wanted, you attention-deprived bastard) you give her an ironic salute and exit her home. It’s weird not having to say goodbye to her parents, but you have to remind yourself that Rezi turned eighteen two months ago. It’s hers now. Mr. and Mrs. Pyrope had checked into a coral cave a little ways down the sanctuary.

The swim home is quite. Really quiet. 

Very quiet.

A-tad-disturbing-quiet.

You are halfway there when you finally realize that literally *nothing* is making a noise in the reef. The fish that swim past you are quick and nervous, the crabs that usually click as they scuttle aren’t even on the move, all the other mer are still asleep or something, and hell, the Voice isn’t even whispering.

You are suddenly very aware that you are in terrible danger.

Then there’s a sound. A small sound. Distant at first, as if a figment of your mind. But it gets closer.  
Closer and closer.  
Closerandcloserandcloser—  
So fast. Shit it’s coming fast.

The water above you begins to churn violently, bringing with it closer the consistent and irritating noise.

Chugchugchugchugchug…..

Ok, fuck this noise, you’re out of here.

Struggling to keep calm, you flick your tail to move and the muscles respond instantly, strong and sure. If there’s anything that can get you to move, it’s danger. 

But this thing is moving faster than you.

Shitshitshitshitshit—is your constant mantra as you force your body into overdrive, willing it to flex faster than it ever has. You don’t know what the thing even IS, but you know that under no circumstances should you get caught.

Bro is close, home is close, you know this area, you’re sofuckingclose and—  
Suddenly the water is very dark. Blood rushing in your ears, you take a glance us and see.

Something huge.

Something fast.

Something *really damn heavy.*

And you are trapped.  
~*~  
You hate this job. You really really do, but it’s currently the only thing keeping you fed and sheltered right now.

It’s early. It’s always early. You know you went to sleep at a decent time but you still can’t *quite* get used to the wake-up call.

The sea is calm this morning, a small blessing, and the breeze is tangy and salty and on your side, keeping you and your fellow fishermen cool against the particularly warm sun today. You are currently manning the net along with your friend Jake, (the only person who you can stand on this crew. He’s two years older and nice and funny and not old and rude) and he is honestly the only thing keeping you awake at the moment.

“So that’s when I said—”

“Hey Jake,” you interrupt, gaze fixed on the horizon, “Sorry. But, aren’t we going out a little far today? We left the shore miles behind us.”

Your friend looks surprised and actually seems to pay attention to his surroundings for once. His neck twists in a comical way and a frown creases is brow.

“Golly, I think you’re right, John. I wonder why the devil we’re out so far today?”

You shrug and offer an answer, “Maybe the fish are more scarce up closer.”

He seems to accept this answer and the frown disappears, replaced with an over-bit smile almost as bad as yours.

“Say, have I ever told you of the adventure I went on in the Caribbean last year? Smashing tale, if I do say so myself.” You know shaking your head will get you know where, so you smile and indulge him even though you’re pretty sure he’s told you this one before.

Once.  
Twice.  
Okay, twelve times and counting. 

“Jolly good then! Let’s see, where to start? It was a hot, humid day…”

You listen in one ear as you casually lean over the side of the boat. You DO have a job to be doing after all. On a day like this, the water’s clear about forty feet down, yet still no sign of any fish. You silently curse: no fish means no paycheck means no house.

Not easily deterred, you lean over a bit farther—careful John—to get a better look. Blue. Blue and shades of white from the sand and the sun’s reflections and.

Wait. Waitwait what is THAT?

“Jake,” you say, and he stops again. You can hear irritation in his voice.

“C’mon John! You’re interrupting at the good parts—”

“No, really, come over here dude! I see something huge!” Yes! It’s your lucky day, you are the lucky one, it is you.

Jake huffs and stalks over, and you direct him to the enormous shadow of—fuck, SOMETHING—swimming just beside the boat. You grin wildly at Jake and he whistles.

“Holy blue on a navii. That big of a catch could reel in a lot of money!” he exclaims.

“No duh, dude!” you—nearly—squeal, “We need to line up with it! Tell the captain!”

Jake rushes off, nearly fumbling and falling flat on his face, but you try to hold your laugh and keep an eye on that huge fish—this is really your day. 

Jake must’ve altered the rest of the crew of your find, because slowly, the boat is shifting to the right, its massive bulk lining up with the figure. It must be a trick of the waves, because you’re almost positive that thing down there has sped up. It’s now or never.

You send the net hurtling down.

You hold your breath: One second. Two. Three. Foutfivesixtentwentyfourty-two. The boat lurches, and you frantically brace yourself. Wow. Whatever this is, it’s not coming up easy. After regaining your balance, you stumbled over the deck to reach for the lever to haul the net up.

Sure enough, you’ve caught something—and you whoop with joy and fist pump the air. Yes. Hell yes.  
~*~  
No. Fuck no. 

You idiot you ever-loving idiot how did you ever get yourself into this situation oh right it was Bro’s fault with living so far from the sanctuary you hope he cries you hope he breaks down in an invisible pool of manly tears and fucking weeps for you like you’re his newly-deceased lover you swear to God.

Whatever you’ve entangled yourself in, it’s not going to budge with you struggling. You cease moving and take deep breaths. Calm down. Calm down.

Calm. Down.

Figure out your situation. The water is tugging down on you.

(Like a mother clinging to her child) you think, but quickly dismiss it. Focus. It’s tugging down. Which means you’re going up. Great. Just fucking great.

You try untangling yourself. It’s not budging. You try to gnaw the substance loose—not a thing. In fact, *ouch* what the hell is this stuff?? Well, you’re exhausted for ideas. 

You’regonnadie.

No. Stay calm. You give in to panic and nothing will go right.

You’regonnadieand never seeBroag ain.

Stop it. Breaths, Dave, Fuck! 

Or Re zi or yourfriends or thest upid clif f and oh God

Oh God you’re hyperventilating. The sea flushes in your gills and the oxygen-overload overwhelms you. In a second, you snap, and turn into a writhing ball of scales and skin and panic and nononononothis can’t be happening.

If you ever get out of this you’re never trapping another animal again.  
~*~  
It’s coming up, it’s coming up! 

The boat sways lightly with its struggling occupant—who know one fish could be this strong—but it’s working. You can see it now, much clearer than before. You look through the gap in the ship’s deck to look at the haul and—

Wait. What. What is that?

You lean over the railing. The top of the net clears the water, and whatever you’ve trapped presses itself hopelessly against the bottom of the netting. It’s getting closer and closer and—wow what IS that? It’s long and clearly has a *huge freaking tail* but the tops looks distorted. You worry that maybe you’ve trapped a horribly disfigured fish and all this trouble would have been for nothing.

Behind you, you hear Jake:

“Ho! John, is it big? It must be colossal, did you feel the way it rocked the ship? Will we need help?”

For some reason you’re struck with panic. No, no you will NOT need help.  
“Uh, no, no thanks Jake. I think I got this one.”  
“You sure? If it’s that big I think the others—”  
“I said I have it Jake!” you yell back, and that shuts him up. A beat of silence.  
“Golly. Okay then. I’ll be down there to help in a minute.”  
“Take your time.”

The net is almost completely out now. You don’t know why but you *need* to see it before Jake does. You have to. It’s almost there. C’mon hurry up! If only the thing hadn’t planted itself at the bottom…

Finally, it gets close enough for you to see. And you gasp.

It’s a boy. No, scratch that—It’s a fucking *mermaid,* tail and all. You must be hallucinating. The net has stopped moving, leaving the very bottom dunked beneath the waves and the boy looking, horrified, up at you. You’ve never seen someone so scared.

And despite all that. He’s beautiful. From the waist down is a massive, glossy tail of deep red, speckled with bits of gold that catch the sun’s light and hurt your eyes. Eyes trailing up, you see his abdomen is lined with flushed gills at the bottom on either side. His body is tight, coiled, and(you grudgingly admit) not that bad to look at. No, Bad John, bad heterosexual. You force your eyes to look up and can’t resist the gasp that escapes your lips. 

Because he’s blond and freckled and his eyes glint bright red holy fuck he’s *gorgeous,* and you totally didn’t just think that nope, and—

“What *are* you?” you whisper. He flinches. His eyes meet yours, and it almost burns to look into them.

“P-please,” he jerks, almost like he’s surprised of his own voice. But hell, you jump too.  
“Please,” he says again, “Let me go.”

“John! Is it up yet?” And you nearly fall into the water a second time. No, shit, you forgot about him. 

“Uh, it’s fine Jake, really, nothing I can’t handle!”

“Bullshit.”

“Yeah yeah,” you force a laugh, then turn quickly to face the boy. And are hit full-force with his expression. 

“I. I can’t. Do you know what will happen if—if—”

“If you ruin my life, yeah.”

Ouch. Great, now you’re conflicted. Jake’s coming up behind you, you can hear him getting closer. The boy is still looking at you, raw fear in his eyes. Shit, he can’t be much older than you. You’re barely allowed to work on his boat! 

Free him. It’d be simple. Just flick the press ‘Release’ on the lever and the net drops away—

But if you do, you’ll be fired, no doubt.

He seems to see the reluctance in your face, and he hisses urgently, “Fuck, I have a family. Friends. Shit, I’m seventeen! Doesn’t that mean nothing to you heartless bastards??” his voice is pitching. He’s panicking.

You’re panicking. 

“John!”

Your arm slings out and slams the button. 

The boy seems to wilt in relief when the net drops. Then in a flash

He’s gone.

 

Your name is John Egbert and what the fuck did you just see?


	2. ==> Dave, Do the Stupid Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because one look wasn't enough for you, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing and I couldn't stop. Here's three hours worth when I was supposed to be sleeping for band camp xD  
> Enjoy~

You’re outta that shit in three seconds flat. Part of you can’t believe you actually got that human to let you go, but most of you pretty much just screams HOMEHOMEHOMEHOME. So you figure what the hell, you can be totally uncool and swim like a frightened school of fish, but just this once.

The swim home is fast. You see the edge of the cliff and almost cry in relief, except that Striders don’t cry, so you opt for a shaky smile (and maybe you choke up a little but it’s not like no one can hear you right?) Your tail pumps faster instead of slowing down for the sudden drop, but you honestly *do not care.* The drop into sudden nothing is welcome, and you bank up hard not to miss the cave’s entrance.

Bro is there, shitting around with that motherfucking puppet, but you don’t care.   
You don’t care. Up until five minutes ago you thought you’d never see him again.

((Woah little guy, what’s up?)) Bro looks over his shoulder and you see a brief flash of concern. ((Seriously, you look like you’ve seen a…shit.)) He stops because you’re pretty sure you just warbled a little bit. He drop the puppet and swims over and *actually really hugs you—*

And you break.

((B-bro. Shit, Bro I thought I was gonna die. E-end up chopped up an. And served on a fancy plate for some h-h-human’s dinner or s-omething. Fuck. F-fuck I can’t breathe Bro am I gonna die, shit’s real my gills aren’t working Bro—)) 

((Shh.)) You curl into yourself and he strokes your hair, other arm wrapped around you tight. ((Dave. Seriously, calm down. This ain’t cool bro, it is the opposite. Also, for a guy who can’t breathe you’re rapid-firing pretty damn well.)) You allow a small bark of bubbly laughter and pull yourself close to his chest. Fuck, his heartbeat is calming.

You take a few gulps of water and you slowly, s l o w l y feel yourself calming down. You can let this one pass. You can totally let this one slide. ((Haaaahhhhh. Fuck, you’re calming.)) You can hear the smile in his voice when he replies:

((Ain’t that sweet?))

Okay, time to compose yourself. You haven’t freaked out this badly since a shark raided the reef when you were little. Forcing your tail to keep you up, you pull away from Bro and smooth back you hair as best you can from your wild race home. 

((Humans are around the reef.)) you say, expecting cool reassurance that you were just spooked or maybe even a “seriously little guy stop shitting with me,” but the look he presents catches you completely off guard.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so pissed off.

((Did they see you?)) The look on his face honestly scares the shit out of you. In a split second, you deduce that if you tell him the truth, some of that is going to be directed at *you.*

((No way, me? Too fast for them.)) you easily lie. Thank God you can pull your face together, because inside right now you’re still flipping your shit.

((Good.)) He says, and swims past you. The muscles in his back are tensed, and just about every bit of his posture screams danger. Damn, you don’t see him like this, not even during your strifes. You watch as he goes for the shark tooth knifes and whale spine swords, dread rising in your throat. He’s not gonna fucking *attack* that thing, is he?

Instead his hand hovers over the largest knife—Great White—and he pauses. ((Are they physically in the water?))

((Uh, no,)) you breathe, glad he’s at least thinking straight, ((Nah. But they’re In some enormous…thing. No way our stuff could damage that shit.)) For added afftect, you spread your arms as wide as you can—than realize that it doesn’t remotely help him and let them float lamely to your sides. He raises an eyebrow and you think maybe you slipped up somewhere, but he just nods and turns to go out the entrance.

((I’m going to warn the sanctuary. Don’t leave this cave young man,)) he says in his most I’m-Such-A-Protective-Guardian voice, and then before you can protest his orange tail disappears over the lip of the cave.

Deciding you should probably listen to the guy for once, you sigh and collapse into the sand. Fuuuuck you’re more tired than you realized. Ignoring your stomach’s dying pleads for sustenance, you shift on your side and close your eyes.

Nighty-night.  
~*~  
The captain made it pretty clear when you docked later that day that you were fired. You all but fell out of the boat, by the way he shoved you down the ladder. Soaked, confused, and pissed at yourself, you stormed off the dock, not even bothering to look to Jake, who was yelling your name from the boat.

You weren’t mad at him. You just. Couldn’t face anybody right then.

The walk home is same as always, as if the world was completely as it was this morning when you left. Looking at the quaint town and tourist-trap shops along the water, you suppose it is. Your neighbors wave as you pass, some working at various sea-side restaurants, others from small gift shops, and you offer half-hearted gestures back.

Despite your bad mood, you find some comfort in this place: after all, the carefree shores of the Sunshine State are the ideal place to live if you want it. Sure it’s hot, storms are a mess, and it’s always bustling with tourists, but this place is the only home you’ve ever known. Well, only home you can remember at least. According to your grandma, you used to live in Washington.

At this thought a frown presses down on your lips, so you shake your head and decide to cover the rest of the distance in a jog. Exercise always clears your mind.

After a few minutes of steady pacing, your house comes into view over the horizon: an older, elegant house just jutting over the water’s surface. The old home stands wave-washed and bright white against the ocean’s bold blues and greens. The familiar sight does little to soothe you though.

Without your job, you might not be living here very long. You look down to realize you’ve stopped jogging and collapse into the sand.

“Great,” you sigh, “how am I gonna tell Grandma?”  
~*~  
“John my boy!” Grandma calls jovially from somewhere in the house. 

“Hi Grandm—oh God are you baking again? You’re thoughts are halted at the sickly sweet smells of Betty Crocker. Good Lord, if you have to eat another cake tonight…seriously, she makes like, one a day or something! This just isn’t healthy.

“Hoo, yes I am! And you’ll like this one, I’m sure of it—”

“Graaannnmaaa—”

“Get in here John!”

Stupid loving grandmas and their stupid delicious hobbies. You groan and slam the door behind you—just to prove you *really* don’t want to try this cake—but it is no use. It earns you nothing but another sickly-sweet wave of scents from the kitchen and you groan. Better get this over with.

The kitchen is down the faded yellow hall and to the right. You drag your feet down the corridor and blunder through the door and

Aw shit there’s cake EVERYWHERE.

The pastry falls from its carefully placed perch on the door and crumbles in half over your head, splattering all over. You should have known. Sneaky old prankster.

“Hoo hoo hoo! You really walked into that one, hey John?” Grandma has her hand politely covering her mouth, though it’s not really concealing her laugher. 

You frown and run your tongue over your lip. “Strawberry? C’mon, you could’ve at least *tried* to make this enjoyable.” Despite everything, you crack into a smile.  
~*~  
“Fired?” After a shower and lots of mopping, the two of you are seated on the living room, (or as she calls it, the parlor) she in her rocking chair and you in your dad’s old a La Z Boy. You really weren’t looking forward to this, but you had to break the news sometime, right? Right.

“I. Well. Yeah,” you mumble, fumbling with your glasses, “I know. I suck. I tried, really Grandma but I…I screwed up. I don’t know what to do. Jobs in town don’t pay enough and we’re running out of money from dad and—”

“Don’t you worry about it John,” she says. You look up, weary, and find that she’s not angry or disappointed, “You’re completely fine. We’ll find a way to keep this old house. It was you father’s hope that you’d grow up here, and it is not a thing that we will abandon! I can use the money that I’ve saved over the years and your father’s until you have another job.”

What? No! She didn’t need too—you open your mouth but she waves your words off.

“Now John. I will not have my seventeen-year-old-grandson fretting over whether or not he can live in his own house! I’ll take care of the money for now,” she looks at you and her voice softens, “You’ll worry about it when you need to. Okay?”

You can’t stop your voice from choking up and you jump up to deliver a sloppy hug.

“Okay.”

You’ll find a way. You have to. She hugs you back.

“Great. Now, how’s roast sound for dinner?”  
~*~  
It’s late when you wake back up. You can’t see outside yet, but the ocean’s currents inform you that high tide is setting in. The first thing you notice? Your stomach is eating itself.

Groaning, you prop yourself up on your hands and blink lazily into the back of the cave. Damn, where’s Bro with your dinner. Lousy guardian. You run a hand through your hair and shove yourself up with the other—the second thing you feel is your tail falling off.

((Shit,)) you hiss and quickly relax your tail. Ow, God, bad idea, bad idea. How hard did you swim today? Must’ve been pretty hard, consider you were swimming for your life and now the entire lower half of your body is crying out for a mercy kill. 

Okay. The longer you lay here the stiffer it’s gonna be later. You press your lips together and push yourself up off the floor again—with more or less the same amount of pain. Come on Dave, you got this. You’re a Strider, you don’t have room for pain.

With sheer will power (and more than a little stupidity) you manage to keep yourself afloat, though you have to do an awkward paddle with your arms to keep yourself from losing your balance and pin wheeling forward. Your tail protests, but you manage to maneuver and turn to swim over to the entrance. 

It’s dark as a great white’s eyes right now, though a light orange struggles to light the waters from the sunset above. How long has it been—twelve hours?—and Bro still hasn’t come back. If he had, he’d have brought you something to eat once you’d woken up. He always did after you crashed from a long day or a particularly brutal strife. 

Ok. So he still hasn’t come back. No reason to be worried, your Bro is the baddest, strongest mer in the entire clan. You’re sure he’s okay. No way he got taken by the giant metal thing…

You shake your head. ((Shit. Now is *not* the time to flip your lid, Strider. Who’s flipping? Not you, you’re about as un-flipped as the world’s most restrained birdie right now… )) you mumble to yourself and let your eyes adjust to the fading light. 

Still no Bro in sight. He must be at the sanctuary, making sure the clan is safe. He must be.That’s the only logical answer. Yeah.

Nonetheless you push out, clumsily, into the abyss.   
~*~  
You take your dad’s old boat. She’s small, man-powered, and in bad need of a new paintjob, but it’s one of your most favorite possessions you have left from your old life with your father. The S.S. Zillyhoo was her name, and the faithful vessel had carried you though some of your most treasured and vile memories.

The first time rowing with your dad out to sea, gentle smile teasing his mouth while you fumbled with the paddles. Fishing off the sides of its metallic hull on a sunny afternoon. Sharing a fumbling kiss with your first and last girlfriend under your house’s dock (You were both eight. She said it meant that you were married.)

Pulling your dad’s mysteriously mangled body from its cold, smooth bottom.

You never were sure how he died, or how the boat somehow managed to float back to your house.

Old Zillyhoo had a wonderful, yet terrifying history that pushed forth dozens of memories, but you didn’t have it in you junk her. You did stay away from the spot where your dad was lying though. It remained the only clean spot in the entire vessel, bleached stark white against the dull grey.  
Either way, you take the old girl out on nights when you can’t sleep and when you need to feel closest to you dad (you know it’s stupid stupid dumb but you can’t help it.) It’s dark this evening. The sun bleeds oranges and reds over the horizon, though, just enough for you to keep an eye on your house in the distance.

It’s nice to be out here. And think. You lean on the railing and stare lazily out at the water’s surface. It’s pretty, you think. You wonder if the water was like this the night your dad died. You know it’s stupid to think, but you can’t help but imagine that in his final moments he was at his happiest.

“What do I do Dad?” you whisper, resting your head on your folded arms, “I ruined my one chance to keep the house. For some mythical…guy that may or may not have been real.” What is the matter with you? You potentially ruined everything your dad had ever worked on…the house…your future…Grandma…”All for a damn fish!” you shout, flinging your head back and yelling out over the water. The sun meets your heated stare with a lazy, uncaring glare.

You sigh, and settle back down. “What can I do? What can one kid do…” For a while you lean over the edge, not blinking, looking down over the waves that lap gently at Zillyhoo. Before long you look up and realize the sun is almost gone, but a thin red line over the distant horizon.

“Great. Lost track of time.” You look back for the house and—there is no house. “Shit.” The boat rocks slightly when you push off the rail and reach for the paddles. The current hasn’t dragged you that far out—just far down, towards the small reefs that line the rockier southern shores. All you have to do is straighten up and turn back

Wait. You stop mid-paddle and stand up to look over the short railing. There. Just a few yards away—you could’ve sworn you say something breach the water. Something flashy against the newly-shed moonlight. Something red.

Your breath catches in your throat.  
~*~  
Why. Why are you such a colossal dipshit? 

You curse silently to yourself (no use broadcasting it to any mer within a half-mile radius) and dive quickly back under the waves. The back of your spent tail grazes the surface and you re-enter. Its shadow caught your attention. You should have seen the weird, oval-shaped thing and stricken it off as out-of-bounds, but nooooo. You *had* to let your curiosity get the better of you.

It was him. The human.

You couldn’t see all that well against the faded moon-lit night, but you could see the reflection of those striking blue eyes. You’d never seen eyes that blue, never. Fucking eyes looked like a brightest sky on the most flawless day.

And he saw *you.* Again. Fuck.

Hey, maybe he WASN’T looking at you, maybe he was just spacing out and so happened to glace in your general direction and

Nope there is pretty much no possible way he *wasn’t* looking at you. Somewhere in the reasonable part of your head a tiny voice screams incoherent curses dimly resembling FIND BRO YOU STUPID SHIT and RUN WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM. 

You were never one to listen to that voice. Who knew, maybe it would be the death of you. But right now you were certain of one thing; you had to get closer to him.

He’s gonna kill me Bro’s gonna fucking kill me I’m like a mile away from the reef…

Nonetheless, you feel your tired muscles responding and pushing you closer the boy and his strange device, closer to the human who saved your life. You’re close now. The shadow of the thing he’s in is just above you, and you swallow a spike of fear that shoots down your spine because fuck fear you’ve had enough of it for one day, and hover just beneath his sight under the cover of darkness.

His shadow is leaning slightly over the edge, you can see its distorted edges dancing like a displaced phantom on the water’s surface. You hear sounds.

“Hello…any…t….there?” his voice travels, equally garbled, through the water. One minute passes. Two. He doesn’t move. Neither do you. You just float, and stare, painfully aware of your vulnerability right now, alone, save for a human, in the dead of night a mile from the reef, with who knows what the hell looking for a midnight merman snack.

But you can’t bring yourself to move. You just stare up through the water with baited breath, watching as his shadow. Your internal clock ticks off ten more minutes. Finally, he moves. His shadow disappears from the side and the figure above you bucks (you totally don’t flinch) at his weight shifts around. 

He’s leaving. 

Despite the silent sigh that slips through your lips, you can’t help but feel a twang of…something tip your gut as two longer objects slice through the water and propel the thing away. Fuck it.

Hating yourself for every single thing you’re doing wrong here, you take a deep breath and swim up.  
~*~  
The air is harsh against your skin as you break the surface. The moonlight is painfully bright to your adjusted eyes and you bite back a swear when a gust of wind takes you by surprise. How is it so cold up here, really?

You frown and push those thoughts aside—you have a human to flag down. He is facing the opposite direction, so he hasn’t noticed you yet. That little voice in your head screams that there’s still a chance for you to duck back under and forget this ever happened: find Bro, chew him out for leaving you conked out and starving, go home, eat some fish and sleep some more. You kindly inform it to shut the fuck up.

The surface oxygen is another discomfort as you force the salty air into your under-used lungs. It’s less painful than earlier today, but the deep, slightly stuttering voice that escapes your lips still takes you by surprise.

“H-hey. Not gonna l-eave a lady waitin’, are you?”

He practically jumps a foot in the air before hastily getting up and turning around—the look on his face makes the painful adjustment worth it.

The human nearly falls of the thing’s side he’s leaning so far off the edge. His mouth is wide open, though not as much as those ridiculous eyes, and he just kinda stares for a moment, like he isn’t trusting said optical bulbs.

You just sort of bob in the water, tail keeping you afloat and stare meeting his. You note his hair is darker than you originally thought, and he has these huge fucking teeth that poke out and frankly makes you want to grin. But grins are rare things for you, and you sure as hell aren’t going to waste one on a human you don’t even know. Yet.

After at least a minute of gawking, you decide that staring contests are getting you nowhere.

“So,” you say, carelessly flicking your hand through the air, “We gonna talk, or are you just going to stare at the hot slice of merman all night?” You allow an internal pat on the back at how level you were able to keep your voice, like you aren’t completely freaking the fuck out on the inside.

That gets him moving. The boy blinks and seems to notice that his jaw is hitting the abyssal plain, because he snaps it closed and straightens up considerably. Finally, you’re getting somewhere. You shift nervously.

“You…you are real.” He blurts. So smooth.

This time you can’t help but slip a grin onto your face. “What? You humans really that stupid that you don’t remember seeing someone that existed twelve hours ago? Yes, your excellency, I am real.” You lean back, using your hands as buoys to balance yourself.

“I. Um, I’m sorry I just—” he blinks hard a few times before straitening the weird rectangles on his face, “Hi!” he suddenly spurts, thrusting out a hand that nearly sends him overboard. “My name is John! Egbert. John Egbert. And…holy shit you’re a mermaid.”

“MerMAN, young lady,” you deadpan. What the fuck does he want you to do with his hand? The boy—John, you remind yourself—seems to realize you have no clue what to do with it, so he quickly withdraws it.

“Oh. Uh, sorry dude,” he laughs nervously and messes with those things around his eyes again, “Merman. You’re a mer*man.*”

“Yes, and you are a human. Hew-man.”

He sticks his tongue out, “Fuck you too.”

Snarky. “Dave.” you shoot back, voice passive. This throws him off.

“Huh?”

“Dave. Dave Strider, mythical man of the sea, at your service.” 

“Oh. Hi Dave,” he says, and breaks out into the most *adorable* fucking buck-toothed smile you have ever seen. You’re not even ashamed. Shit’s beautiful, like God’s gift to your fucked up eyes. You could write poetry to that smile, whisper sweet nothings to it like it was a damn person. Put a ring on that smile. “I, uh…didn’t think I’d actually see you tonight. Or. Ever, again, actually. I kinda came out here on a limb, hoping to find you,” at this he fucking *blushes,* “I. Wanted to meet the guy that…” 

He trails off, and you wait, patiently. “Guy that?...”

Something passes over his expression and it makes your heart do this stupid jumpy thing but it’s gone before you could even hope to know what to do with it. What the hell?

 

“Guy that…I snared in my net,” he shrugs, as if dismissing something, and you definitely don’t feel disappointment in your gut. Nope.

You force an indifferent tone, “Well, you met him. What now?”

“I don’t know. You were the one who showed,” he cocks his head to the side and stares flames with those blue eyes, “What did you want?”

This…stumps you. Honest to God stumps you. 

Youwantedtoseehiseyesagain

No stop it.

Youwantedtohearhimtalktoyou.

Shut up!

“I…” for once in your life, you’re at a loss for words. John stares from underneath those long lashes and any thought you grasp at slips through your fingers. Finally you give up and shrug. “Can I see you?” Hopefully that sounded calmer than it felt. John looks at you like you’re some sort of deformed fish on display.

“Uh, dude, you’re…looking at me now?”

You do a mental facepalm. “No, no. God. I mean,” you give a tentative swish of your tail and move a bit closer to him, “Can I…touch you?” Wow, great job Dave. Way to sound like a sex offender. Your face threatens to explode from the amount of self-control it’s taking for you *not* to flush red, but what he says sends all the heat to your stomach.

“Can I. See you too?”

Is this happening? You nod in an almost stupefied way, and swim closer. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you approach, and sure enough his breath is coming out in short, tense bursts the closer you venture. You are about six feet away when you realize how close you are, and the thing he’s riding is makes you hesitate.

“That. Thing you’re in. It won’t grab me?” you feel shame well up in you when he laughs.

“This? Hehe, no Dave. This boat is barely big enough for me.”

Boat? Huh. Knowing its name makes you less nervous. Plus, boat? What kind of a stupid name is that?

You venture a little farther and reach out. Your hand is shaking. Shit. But his is worse. John meets your halfway, fingers trembling, and he gasps at your touch. His fingers are rough and warm, though not as warm as yours, and you are curious to find that almost no trace of webbing stretches between them. Then again, humans don’t live in the water.

“You’re so warm,” he whispers, bringing you out of your silent reverie and sending quite shivers down your spine. Fuck, his voice, it sounds so…awed. And it’s about you. “And your skin is smooth and. The webbing, wow.”

You snort, “Your hands are pretty weird too, y-ya know.” Damn, there’s that stutter again. John pulls away, (you are not disappointed. You are not.)and looks at hand like he’s been touched by magic. You eye him, judging his reaction. Mostly wonder, mostly amazement. After a moment, he looks down at you again.

“Your tail?”

Without a word,(and a little more quickly than you should have) you shift and tilt back, letting your tail take a break and using your back to float. It slides up from under you and silently breaks the water, deep red scales shining dully in the moonlight. 

You hate your tail—it’s nothing noteworthy like Bro’s striking orange, or Rezi’s pretty turquois, or even Rose’s sparkling pink—it’s just regular old, coral red with flecks of yellow. But the look on John’s face as he gawks at it makes it feel like the most important tail in the world.

He breaks his gaze away to look you in the eye. “Can I?” He wants permission. To touch you tail. Breathless under those eyes(dammit) you jerk your head and he complies, reaching out and running his hand along the delicate scales. The touch makes your breath hitch, and you fight the urge to twitch it as he runs the tips of his fingers over the end of your tail, pausing at the thin membrane of your feathering fins.

You hear him murmur something along the lines of ‘incredible,’ when he suddenly jerks away. You look up at him, confused and a little hurt. 

“Hey, it’s not that ugly.” You grumble, and slip it back under the waves. 

John’s eyes go wide and he stutters, “N-no it’s not that—it’s beautiful. Shit…” he goes bright red but you don’t really notice. He thinks *your* tail is beautiful?

No Dave stop, stop being a girl.

“It’s just. This is kind of a lot to take in. Haha…” John laughs nervously. You stare back, tempted to reach for him again but figuring it’d probably make him flip out or something. “Really, nothing’s wrong with you Dave.” He looks at you and gives you a small smile, “Really, okay? I just. I gotta go.” Before you can react, John’s at the back of his ‘boat’ and gripping the sticks.

“Wait!” you yell, falling out of your cool-guy phase. You right yourself and swim a little closer. John eyes you, waiting. Fuck, what are you doing? What you’re doing is so wrong on so many levels but you don’t care you really don’t you just know you need to see this boy with the rectangles on his face and the smile again who thinks you’re pretty and makes your stomach do stupid things. You are suddenly aware of how stupid you feel right now, but you press on:

“Will you come back? Can we…see each other again? There’s a cove,” you find yourself rushing, wanting him to listen to you, “a little ways down towards the reef. Can I see you?”

John looks at you, stunned for a moment, before he smiles and shakes his head like he can’t believe what’s happening. Hell, he probably doesn’t. You know you don’t.

“Yeah, of course!” he says, and you swear you’ve never felt more excitement in your life, not even in an ironic way. Smash it down, Strider, so uncool. “I can be down here tomorrow night. If I come here, could you lead me there?”

“Yeah,” you say, allowing a small smile, “Same time, same place. Be there, Egbert.”

John laughs that amazing fucking laugh and agrees, and before you know what happened, he is disappearing down the shore.

You float there for a second, not entirely believing what just happened, but you know that it did. Because you still feel the tingle where his fingers traced your scales. You still hear his laugh on the wind.

Fuck. 

You’re falling for him like a schoolgirl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really hoping I can put out the next one sometime soon.


	3. ==> Be a Nervous Wreck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's in denial. Dave's so uncool. Bro's not as tough as he lets on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marching camp all week, just finished this chapter. This may be two or three chapters longer, I'm not sure. The feedback from the last chapter was amazing! Thank you all so much, I tried to keep the quality up as I wrote this one, it's sortof a transitional chapter but oh well.
> 
> Enjoy~

You dream of salt and water and a boy with red eyes.

It's bright when you open your eyes, and your immediate response is to shove a blanket over your face. Uggghh why does the sun have to be so damn *bright?* You make a mental note to invest in some curtains. If you can afford to invest in curtains.

"Uuaaahh!..." You yawn like a dying whale and shove yourself up from the tempting embrace of your fluffy fortress. Light spills from the window and you squint, eyes adjusting. Looks like you didn't sleep too late--it's still a creamy orange outside.

You blink a few times and swing your legs over to the side of the bed to meet the cold, smooth floorboards. That wakes you up a bit, and you push off.

Something smells terrible.

"What *is* that?" you mutter, and scratch your arm. Huh? You pull your hand away to look at your clothes: a loose-fitting blue v-neck. That's funny, you almost never go to sleep in your... 

You look lower to see khaki shorts. They're crumpled at the edges, dried with salt.

And it all comes back to you.

"That...wasn't a dream," you blurt. You suddenly feel very silly. How could that possibly have happened? Boys that live in the ocean don't exist, and you certainly didn't talk to one...

Except that you came back home and didn't bother to change, there's dried salt water on your pants and that smell is TOTALLY fish, now that you think about it.

This sends you falling back on your rumpled bed. 

Okay, so you met and talked with a guy who's life you almost ended, then saved. A guy with bright red eyes, way too many freckles, and a fish tail. Okay. Okay.

"Ha! Haha! HUAAAAAA--fwooooooo. I am sane. You are sane, John Egbert."

"Jonathan?" A tired, grand-motherly voice calls up from the floorboards.

"I'm fine Nana!" You yell down to the floor. You hold your breath. Five seconds, then--

"Ok sweet heart," and she's out like a light. 

Okay. So you might not be as sane as you thought. There has to be some logic to this situation. You stand up from your bed and begin to strip. The first thing to do is get out of these clothes--no clothes, no evidence. 

"Right," you mumble, and walk across the room to grab your towel from off the door. Now you shower, to get rid of the smell. 

The bathroom is outside your door. In a few seconds you find yourself standing in front of the bathtub with your hands over the knob. Twist and pull. The water spouts out of the shower head and splats to the floor.

The water is hot against your skin, and you stand underneath it with your eyes closed, mind whirling. 

Slowly, you formulate a plan. 

One, take a shower; two, change into clean clothes; three, go downstairs and cook breakfast; four, head to town and guilt Mrs. Godfrey down the street to let you work in her gift-shop until you find something more stable. 

Hey, you never said it was an elaborate plan!

"This will work, that sounds good," you sigh. Your hair is sticky with sweat. You reach for the shampoo and squirt the liquid in your other hand. The plan will work, but now you have to finish step one. Shower. You bend to turn the water hotter. The heat scalds you somewhat, but it also keeps your head clear, sharp.

As you stand under the relentless water and clean yourself, your mind starts to wander. What if that doesn't have to be the plan? What if you...tweak it?

No, bad brain. Focus.

*If* the dream was real then Dave will show up tonight and be disappointed that you--

"Dave wasn't real. Isn't real."

Geez, why do even you own THOUGHTS hate you? Can't a guy just take a burning hot shower and ignore the pretty fish-man?

You swallow hard, and scalding water trickles it's way down your throat. For a moment you see him, drifting in the dark ocean waters, achingly gorgeous face twisted into a look of hurt, all because *you* didn't show when you *promised--*

_Same time, same place. Be there, Egbert._

So maybe he *was* real. You finish with the shampoo and lean back to rinse it. The suds drip to your feet and swirl down the drain.

So maybe you *should* tweak the plan. Next is soap. Grit and sweat wash off, leaving you raw and fresh. You switch the water off and step out. The soft blue cloth of the towel you wrap around your waist.

So maybe feigning ignorance *is* a horrible idea. The walk to your room is a short one; the door closes behind you. In a swift movement, you cross the room and open your dresser and grab the first pair of boxers you see.

So maybe Dave Strider shouldn't be forgotten. You slip on the pair and fling the towel over your shoulder, not really caring you're half naked. It's your room after all. The bed rushes up to meet you and you gratefully face-plant into its fluffy embrace.

It takes you a minute to realize you are smiling into your blankets and--

Thank God he wasn't a dream.  
~*~  
You couldn't sleep, not with John still fresh in your mind. At the time sleep was your farthest thought--your body was still pumping adrenaline through your veins, your hand and tail still tingling with his contact, and of corse Bro was still a big worry--where the fuck was he anyway?

But right now past you seems like the biggest fucking nark in existence. You're exhausted and _starving_ and holy hell you wish you could go back in time and knock yourself out with lil' Cal or something. Anything to end the pounding in your head right now.

You can't sleep now though, 'cause right now Bro is swimming through the cave entrance, looking like he just swam through hell and back. You thank whatever God watching over you that you didn't run into him last night after all: guy looks like he'd rip your throat out at the moment.

((Hey Bro,)) you say, propping your head up on the heel of your palm. Never said you didn't _try_ to get sleep last night.

He looks at you and you see something foreign in his amber eyes. Bros--shit--he's more tired than you, and that's saying something. 

(('Sup little man? You been waiting up for me like the diligent little angel you are? Don't try to sell me the 'I've been sleeping like a rock' shit. You look horrible.))

You screw the corner of your mouth up in a small frown. ((Could say the same Bro. The hell happened to you? Looks like you and a hurricane got up-close-and-personal, wrecked your shit and insulted our mother.))

He huffs, sending bubbles up and over said wrecked-shit. Instead of arguing, Bro floats the rest of the way in and sinks softly to the floor. 

Relief quickly turns to concern, tail protesting when you rise to swim over. ((Bro?)) Shit shit fuck what happened last night? He looks like a wilted anemone and he's not answering where _was_ he this whole time and--

((Calm down, Strider, you're...better than this. Don't get all...puffy-eyed on me. You'll dishonor...your brother, fuck.))

You almost--almost--cry out with relief. Of course he's okay. He's Bro, the guy that raised you and defends the Clan and is known to pick fights with sharks to blow off steam. He's fine.

And why the fuck wouldn't he be?

Annnnnddd despite all that you press the heel of your hands to your throat-gills, forcing yourself not to get worked up.

((That's...it,)) he says, face passive, ((Dishonor on you, dishonor on your sea cow...))

((Bro,)) you say, fighting off a smirk, ((Shut the fuck up.))  
~*~  
"Morning Nana!" One hour later and you're downstairs in the kitchen, (delightfully free of post-caking debris) clean clothes hugging you tightly and bacon sizzling in the skillet. 

Your Nana pads lightly into the sun-lot room, eyes blinking off sleep and hair in a messy bun. "John? You're cooking?"

"Well, yeah, why not?" You ask, mouth pulling up into a smile. Geez, it's not like you're _completely_ useless around here!

"It's just," she stifles a yawn, "well I'm sorry dear but I thought you BURNED everything you touched!" 

You casually scoot the bacon-crisp-filled trash can away from the stove.  
"Nahhh."  
~*~  
You're carrying away your plates when there's a knock at the door.

"Um..."

"It's okay, dear, I've got it," Nana waves you off, and you gratefully carry the dishes back to the kitchen. Breakfast wasn't half bad, actually. Score one for John. 

Your hands are smeared with soap when someone claps their hands on your shoulders, and you jump, sending water everywhere. The person behind you yelps, followed by a loud *thud,* and you spin, arms held up in a terrible karate pose.

You think it's a karate pose.

You are 20% sure it is a karate pose.

"Jake!"

The man blinks up at you, bespectacled green eyes looking larger than life , and he smiles brightly like he _didn't_ just scare the shit out of you. "Well salutations John! Terribly sorry for the scare, if you'd like to get back at me I'm all for a quick round of fisticuffs! Jolly good time those are you know."

"Da--dangit dude, you scared the heck out of me," you stutter, aware Nana must be somewhere near. 

On the floor, Jake smiles wider, and practically _vaults_ up from the floor, "All the more reason for a good rough-and-tumble, don't you think?"

"A what-and-huh? Jake, what?"

"C'mon then!" He bounces on the balls of his feet like you just suggested you take a plane to James Cameron's house for a photo shoot.

"No!"

"Aww, alright then." He lowers his fists and shifts into an easy stance.

You breathe through your mouth and pinch the bridge of your nose, "Jake, why are you here?" You don't mean to sound frustrated, really, Jake's your friend, but he really acted like a derp sometimes. 

And that was coming from you.

"Oh. Right. Suppose I should have a reason for dropping in huh?"

"That would be nice."

"Yes! Well, I was feeling bloody awful about yesterday. You're my best bud, I feel like I should've fought for your honor or something--"

"This isn't a bad romance movie--"

"So I wanted to make it up to you!" He finishes, lopsided smile beaming and hand outstretched, "John," he says, face suddenly turning serious, "do you trust me?"

"Oh my Disney, Jake, no."

"Do you?" He quirks an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes but smile, and clasp his hand, "Sweep me away, oh dearest Arabian Prince!"

The two of you leave the house laughing like a couple of dorks.

You guess you are.  
~*~  
Bro gives you the hardest time possible, resisting rest and clutching lil' Cal--((Ironically,)) he stone-faced--and refusing to eat unless you dice it up and fucking hand-feed him.

Sometimes you wonder if the two of you take this irony thing to far. But you deal with it, because you're a Strider and you deal with things, the end.

The water outside the cave surges with the tide and it isn't long before the earliest pulls of high tide nag at you. Having fed both yourself and your Bro, and caught some naps in between the fishing sessions, you are somewhat rested, but still feeling a helluva lot better than you did this morning.

As the minutes tick by(you've always had a thing for keeping up with time) your stomach works itself further into a knot because three hours from now will be when you leave to meet up with John. If he even fucking shows, and if you can actually sneak out with Bro nearby. 

The guy can move at the pulse of a wave.

No use worrying about it now, though. 

Who's worrying? Definitely not you. Get over yourself, strider, fuck.

You push those thoughts to the back of your mind before using up from your resting position at the lip of the cave and letting your tail droop lazily over the edge. Bro stirs quietly behind you. 

Three hours. The hours till you leave.  
~*~  
You and Jake return home slightly a little before sunset, with the sun hovering reluctantly over the water's edge. 

He took you to the bike rental place then to lunch and later to a movie, Dawn of the Planet of the Monkeys, or something like that. You didn't really pay attention to it much. As he whispered excited commentary in your ear your thoughts were elsewhere, in a small metal boat with under a star-lot sky and a boy of literal legend.

You would see him again soon, and the rush of blood from your head to your stomach left you feeling slightly lightheaded. That, and far less inclined to watch chimpanzees ride horses into glorious battle.

"Glad you came ole' chap! It's been a while sense we've had this much time to ourselves, huh?" Jake smiles and stuff his hands in his pockets. You're at the foot of your doorstep.

"Yeah, really. Call me when you want to scare the shit out of me again,though, ok?"

"I'll make good on it. See you later John!" He gives you a "bro hug" before leaving, and you find yourself waving until Jake's messy mop of dark-brown hair disappears down the beach. 

The house is quiet, save for the TV when you walk in. Nana rocks in her chair, blanket placed neatly over her lap and smiles at your entrance.

"Have a good time, dear?"

"Yeah," you say, running a hand through your hair, "it was nice."  
And you laugh, because it was.  
~*~  
Three hours later and your hands are almost shaking with anxiety. This is the time, this is the place. The ocean is quiet. The waves are calm. The breeze plays with your hair and you force a stable breath.

And you wait for Dave.  
~*~  
Bro sleeps heavier than you thought. He didn't so much as shift when you pushed off the ledge, and you had to stifle a bubbly bark of laughter when you looked back to find his mouth wide open and a hermit crab scuttle inside.

Light sleeper your ass. Your. Fish ass. Thing. 

The image is enough to keep the butterfly fish from your stomach as you make the fifteen minute swim out to the spot where you met up with Dave. The little ease you have slips away when the shadow of his boat comes into view.

Again, you find yourself almost glued to the spot, but you shake away the paralysis and push forward. Fuck unease. You got this.  
~*~  
"Dave!" He practically fuckin _squeals_ when you break the surface. You instantly feel 100% better. 

"'Sup Egbert?" The stutter is gone. Hell yes. 

He smiles and those buck teeth make you want to go cartwheels, but you settle for flicking your tail extra-hard under the waves.

"Dude, took you long enough. You said same time, and you are one minute late!"

"46 seconds, prawncess, gimme a break." Did you just use a fish pun? Where the fuck did that come from? If John noticed, he doesn't let on.

"Pffft. Close enough..." His eyes glitter under the waves reflection, you realize, and you find yourself staring at them even though you're 95% sure he continues talking. Damn, how is it _legal_ to have eyes that clear?

"Uh. Dave?"

Fuck he _was_ talking. Don't let on don't let on.

"Yeah, sure."

"Then..." He shifts, the tiniest hint of blush playing on his cheek, "let's...do it?"

You lose all of your cool. All of it. 

"Ah. W-what--" dammit--"were we doing again?"

He flaps his hand in the air, "The cove? Are we going to the cove?"

You idiot.

"Yeah," you say, trying frantically to keep your face together, "let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this a cliff hanger? I think it may be >:D stay tuned, and thank's for reading y'all :)


	4. ==> Enter the Cove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really don't know xD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah there's _definitely_ going to be more than five chapters. Enjoy~

"What _is_ this place?..." You can't see his face: you're some ways in front of his "boat," and even If you weren't you're eyes are too shitty to see him tonight clearly. Even though you could swear you hear the smile in his voice. His dorky, amazing smile.

"Cove, remember? C'mon, Egbert, you know this. It's not too big of a word for you is it?"

John snorts. "Durrrr a cove? No, you ass," he laughs behind you, "I meant ...how did you find it? Why is it here? It looks like something out of a fairy tale or something."

You pause and consider his words. You guess this place _is_ a lot to take in. The cove has been a place of refuge for the Clan for years, from hurricanes, predators...humans.

It's nothing huge: the whole land form is circular and pinched at it's entrance, shore lined with cliff edges and determined vegetation that clings to the rocky ledges. At the other end of the cove is an enormous cave that rises out of the water at a gentle slope, carved from years of constant battering.

Behind you, John has stopped rowing with the weird things he calls "paddles"--fucking weird, how does wood of all things make a good fin substitute?--so he must be waiting for you to answer. You figure you should answer.

The water sloshes gentle around you when you flip over on your back to face him. You were right: John's smile weakly reflects the lights of the stars (you are _not_ happy that you can see it, nope.)

"Just your regular old Strider's Tale, Egbert. Imagine little me, all cute and innocent and shit, swimmin' around with my stumpy little fish tail and just being the single most fucking adorable thing to ever flail it's way out of evolution's freaky gene pool...I mean, something _had_ to have gone right when I was born because hot damn was I cute. You don't even know. Dave E. Strider, gem'o the ocean--"

" _Dave--_ "

"Yeah yeah." 

John chuckles and drops the paddles to his sides. He blinks down at you and rests his elbows on his legs, resigning himself to a drawn-out story. Smart boy.

"So. I'm being my own little chill mer-lad self and minding my own business right? Talkin' to the awe-struck fishies and cool guy frolicking with the dolphins--"

"You can talk with fish?" His eyes go wide.

"Shut your face hole and let me finish. Also, hell no." 

Eyes roll.

"Where was I?"

"Frolicking..."

"...Right. _cool guy_ frolicking," with a swish of you tail you are upright, "when some douchey predator decides to try and make a snack of little old me."

John gaps and covers his mouth in mock surprise, "No? Not little old you!"

You nod sagely, "Yep, fucker came right at me. And me, being my little rad self instantly reacts and does the most logical thing possible for a four-year-old. I got the hell out of there.

But where to run? And where to hide? No adults in sight--off fucking around with bullshit hobbies, terrible guardian--so little Dave is all on his own. I swim and swim and swim, predator hot on my non-existent heels, and then I feel this break in the waves, so I head for it right?"

"Yep, you most certainly do."

"Turned out the break was because of a huge wall of rocks--"

"That thing that scraped the boat at the entrance?"

"The very same." You smirk and turn back around, start swimming again. You hear John fumble with the paddles and rush to keep up. 

"So what...hahh...happened then?" He grunts.

You don't answer. Best to keep him on his toes. Instead, you flip over again and work your tail to keep you propelling over the water. You look at him.

He's a wonder. Against the weak light he sits slightly hunched over in the metal boat, mouth pressed together in a thin line and eyes squinted in concentration as his arms work to slide him over the water. You wonder if his arms are strong, having to use them in the water all the time. 

"Dave?" Shit, you're staring. How long were you looking at him?

John's eyes lock onto your own and you jerk your body around hastily: you hate your eyes. They're bright and strange and attract things that would love to make you a snack.

"You might wanna ditch the boat," you say over your shoulder, "it gets really shallow in a few yards, towards the cave."

"Oh. O...okay." Behind you, there's the sound of disturbed waves and a grunt when John hefts himself out. 

You flip your body to face him and see he is working his arms awkwardly to stay above the gentle waves. He shifts and clutches the side of the boat with one arm wand does this weird little jerk-flail.

Without thinking, you push closer and reach out a hand, "I can help pull it--" 

John flinches at your hand. Ouch. You slip it back under the waves and let your face slip into a passive stare. No way in hell you're gonna let him know that...hurt? What?

"Sorry," he huffs and reluctantly drops one arm to keep paddling, "just...I barely know you and...I'm kinda nervous about all this."

Okay, so he's nervous. Understandable. He doesn't think you're a freak--there is reason behind the flinching. Slow it down, Strider.

"That's fine man," This time, you meet his eyes with your own, "Can I help you?"

His grip slowly loosens. 

"Yeah. Yeah, that'd be nice." He takes a shaky breath and let's his other hand fall beside him in the water.

Okay. Okay, that's good at least. Progress. Without a word you swim a little closer--he's next to you, shit. His breath is shallow in your ear as you grab onto the boat. He swims a little in front of you and you pull the boat behind you.

It's surprisingly light, and you're almost 100% sure that you could get this baby to shore in five seconds flat if you didn't have to worry about leaving John flailing in the water behind you.

Before long your tail is slapping the sand lightly with each flick and John is wading slowly up to the entrance of the cave. The boat drags noisily in your grip until it diggs itself in, and you let go, gratefully. Holding it limited your movement, and honestly that shit kinda freaked you out, considering a boat almost dragged you away only two days ago.

Sure that it won't drift back the the center, you let go and fling your gaze further up the rising shore.

John's rising out of the dark blue waves like some fucking thing of myth, water slipping off in waves and drilling down the raven mop on his head. You look on for a second and _holy shit he just keeps going_ up and up and up--

But then you shake your head. Of course you idiot, he has legs. It only makes sense he's gonna be taller than most things you've seen. 

You force those thoughts from your mind(focus) and work on the arduous task of hauling yourself up the slope. 

You've done this before.

_Halfway up is three feet. Then the water disappears. Another four, and you're completely out. Ten feet. Small tide pool._

John is already out of the water and sitting, knees pulled up to his chest, waiting. For you. Best not keep it like that.

This is so not cool. Nope, not at all.

After much restrained grunting and wriggling, you are splayed out on the sand next to John, lungs heaving. 

Breaths, Strider, it's not that difficult.

You know John is a little ways next to you, and probably watching. Waiting. But he's not speaking, not at all. You can't even hear him breathing anymore.

"Eeughh..." More awkward land-writhing and you have propped yourself up on the heels of your hands, tail curled almost-comfortably around you. Your fin *just* reaches the water out behind you.

"So." John's voice(does not) startle you, and you tilt your head to look at him. You can feel heat fighting it's way up to your face, but you whip it to submission and keep it below the surface.

He's looking at your tail.

"This is the cove, huh?" Blue eyes meet your own. Stout nod. What the fuck happened to your voice?

"It's pretty," he says. He shifts and faces the water. You turn away and look yourself. 

It _is_ pretty nice you guess. Looks like the clouds finally parted, letting the moon look down over the waves and transforming the water to a pale blue mirror. The walls of the cove rise from the water like stubborn, ancient guardians and surround the two of you in a protective shield. 

A lonely gull calls somewhere.

This scene is yours, the two of yours' alone. It's nice.

"I guess you're right. Never noticed how the moon does the water like that. Kinda like a giant pane of--"

"Not the cove, Dave."

"Huh?"

You swear you see a faint red on his face against the tan peachy-tone.

"You are." It's a whisper. A dying breath that fades with the wind. You weren't meant to hear that, but he underestimated your hearing.

Stomp on the butterflies. Keep those emotions in check!

You were not meant to hear, but you did.

You stare at him, head cocked to the side. Who is this boy? This strange, wonderful boy that flirts with every danger you've ever been taught to avoid? Who had you at 'Hi' and makes your heart hammer in it's cage.

John swallows lightly and meets your stare. So blue, damn they're so blue. You'd thought you had seen every shade of blue before, but you were wrong. So wrong.

"Dave?"

"Yeah?"

"You never finished you're story, ya know," his mouth falls into an easy smile and his eyes crinkle at the corners. Without warning, he falls back onto the sand and and shifts so that he's facing you. He curls his arm underneath his head, "Finish maybe?"

"Only 'cause you asked so nicely."  
~*~  
He tries to hide himself. Not like, literally because he's like a six-foot-long half-fish on a beach and that'd be stupid, but emotionally. 

His mouth almost never slips from a thin line. Not in a rant, not during a story, not even at one of your lame jokes, which is, admittedly, impressive. When you're like this, close and alone, he doesn't even flinch. All in all, you'd say that Dave Strider has one of if not the best poker _everything_ you've ever seen--

If not for his eyes.

You're sure he doesn't even realize it either. He definitely doesn't let on when he does.

But when you catch him staring--in the boat when he's talking, when offering to help you pull it to shore, hell, when he's telling you the rest of the story _right not_ , his eyes are so amazingly expressive you almost find it hilarious.

It's clear by how much his eyes betray him how hard he works to keep passive.

When he talked about swimming from danger, you see real, distant fear in his eyes. When he talks about the reef and the cove joy pulls at the corners.

When you scoot closer a look so adoring coats those candy-red orbs that it makes your chest ache.

What are you doing?

"Now we use it for hurricanes and shit like...John what are you?..." His voice dies away as you press your shoulder against his.

Whatthehella reyo u doin g?

"Cold," you murmur, because hell that's the only thing you can think to say at the moment when you're bodies _completely_ ignoring your totally heterosexual head right now! 

_It's not a lie either. The water was freezing._ you tell yourself.

That's it. That's all. Dave Strider is wondrously warm and the end.

"Oh," he says.

You press closer, mindful of his tail. He uncoils it a little, and you hop forward on your butt to fit comfortably in the space between him and the fishy appendage. Your legs curl over the red scales.

"Wow. You're part fish, aren't you supposed to be cold or something?" Your voice is heavier than you realized. Your eyes close, and you breath in.

Salt and brine. 

"Dunno Egbert," he says, and his voice sounds level enough, but you have a feeling those eyes are saying something else, "Living deep makes us warmer than humans need to be? Science and shit."

This draws us a laugh from your chest. He's ridiculous.

You lean into his side and something slick meets your cheek. Curious, you crack your eyes to see three slits against the alabaster of his skin. They flutter weakly.

Gills? Oh yeah, merman. You sign and position your head just above them. Don't wanna suffocate him or something. Wait. You're not in the water. Oh, fuck it.

You lay like this for a moment, treasuring the small silence and the steady pump of Dave's lungs against your cheek until he shifts. You freeze. Slowly, slowly, an arm comes around your shoulder.

His breath stops. You're pretty sure yours does too. 

"Is this...okay?" For once, he sounds strained.

You take a breath. No need to be a douche about him touching you. Not when you moved first, not when what you're doing right now crossed over the line of "Bro hugs" into "I-think-I-like-a-fish-boy" territory. 

"Yeah. You're fine."

His arm is solid, more sure, and settles confidently around your shoulder. You feel his hand tighten gently around your arm.

Touching is okay. Touching is alright.  
A soft sigh escapes Dave's lips, as if he's passed some right of trial, and you feel his figure stoop to lean against yours too.

Dave is okay. You are okay. And this? This is wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story gets moving next chapter! I wanted to make this one extra long but my laptop broke and I'm currently writing/updating on my iPhone. It's a pain xP (Literally) School starts up Tuesday so updates may not be updated as frequently but I'll work to get these chapters out ASAP. Thank you for reading!


	5. ==> Dave, be Social

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave can't be secret and Karkat is a dork.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! I'm so so so so sorry I haven't updated in forever. I was hospitalized the first two weeks of school so I was so ridiculously far behind with my advanced class (turns out they also learn 2 times as fast as cp classes, 3 tests in two weeks?? C'mon!) so I've had no time to write. I kept getting emails from this fic and finally I decided to sit down my text book and write xD another transition chapter, but more to come!
> 
> Enjoy~

You watched him disappear down the beach, raven hair glinting in the light of the moon. You didn't leave until his ridiculous, wonderful grin vanished from your sight.  
~*~  
((Get up.))

((Geez, Bro, common. Give a guy a beak...))

((Nope.))

A sound birdie is flicked. 

A fucking _huge_ fish is thrown in your face.

((Gak!)) At least ten pounds of fishy ass back hands your face and sends you reeling back--ouch, shit, bad idea. That's a wall. That's a ridiculously hard cave wall. ((What the hell?)) The cave spins around in a blur of blue and white before you can tell up from down. Oh hey, breakfast.

Oh hey, headache.

Muttering, (pretty pointless underwater. You succeed in sending bubbles up over your hair. Blonde flies everywhere.) you reach for the offending weapon/foodstuff that is slowly floating it's way up to the ceiling.

((Thanks for the grub, but a more gentle delivery next time huh?)) Fish secured,(nomnomnom) you push yourself off the wall and spin to face Bro. The bastard, he's probably looking all smug and--

Shit.

Your guardian is casually leaned against the curve of the cave's mouth, sword propped to sit across his shoulder. The tip of his tail, a wisp of citrus, is swishing lightly. Despite the sword, it's a pretty normal pose. 

If it weren't for those eyes. Shit shit shit he _he knows_ .

Those terrifying copper eyes lock into your own and it's all you can do to keep your jaw working on the scaley hide.

((Sup Bro?)) keep it cool. Keep it collected. Don't look away, look away and you're guilty.

((Hey.)) he drawls, runs a finger down the sword. 

Take another bite, chew, swallow.

((Thought I should actually feed your needy ass this morning. Ya know. You could say thank you.))

((Fuck you, first breakfast since last week.)) 

((You looked wiped. Thought I'd spare you huntin' you're own shit.)) Bro blinks, slowly, then turns to face the abyss sprawled outside. You can breathe again. 

And choke on a scale.

_"Bllrbrbleblw!!"_ bubbles fly everywhere while you try and fail at hacking up a withered lung. Shit, gah, that hurt. Is your face burning? Yep, bright red, knowing your horribly pale ass.

Struggling to keep down the blush, you give another look at Bro--he hasn't even moved.

((Any reason for that?)) he asks, like you just didn't cough up the Titanic. 

((For what?))

((Lookin' so tired. You were out.)) Statement, not question. Fuck.

Roll with it. Denying would make shit more complicated. ((...Yea. I was.)) you pause eating, stare hard at your brother. Silence. ((I was with Rezi' if you want to know. Though last night I didn't think you'd want to. 'Hey Bro I'm going out to see my lady friend at x o'clock don't wait up!' Plus you were out cold. Try'na be considerate.)) Three seconds tick by. Five, ten. Will he seriously buy it? He's an honest-to-God lie detector, shit's terrifying. But if you really sell it-- straight face, eye contact, confident voice-- can you? Will he?  
What would he do to you?

What would he do to John?

The thought almost makes your heart stop.

_He'd kill him._

No, stop.

_It'd be for the good of the clan._

Fuck the clan, he won't expose us.

_But do you know that?_

You can't even answer yourself.

Finally, 

((Let me know next time. You know I ain't gonna be up your ass about Rezi.))

If you had legs you'd collapse.

((Cool. Speakin'a which I'm gonna head out--)) meal finished, you fling the bones over his head into the open water, then move to leave. You're halfway out the cave when he says,

((She ends up preggo you better step up and be a good baby daddy.))

You sputter, suck in water, and nearly choke to death.

 

_Too close. Way too fucking close._

The ocean is pretty calm today, but it doesn't do much to quell the _thu thunk, thu thunk_ of your racing heart. 

How did he even know you left? Man was out cold, you were sure of it. And he was so tired that night...how could he have--

_He's Bro._

Right. You wouldn't put it past him to fake being out cold just to spy on you. The creep.

((Home home you're home don't ever leave me again okay? Okay hurry hurry it's safe here)) the reef's voice brings you back to ground control, enthusiastic and gleeful as always. You immediately feel the tension slip from your shoulders.

Home. You're home. Bro can't touch you here.

Haha, _riiiiight._

The hard, compact sand beneath you fades to white as you approach the reef. Bright blues and pinks and yellows of the coral sprinkle the landscape, until suddenly--BOOM

You're in the heart of it.

((Daaaaavve!)) 

It seems like forever since you've heard that voice. Er. Felt? Telepathically? Fuck it.

((Yoo, Rezi--)) "Blrrbblmp!" Oh hey, more bubbles.

That's a face full of fish lady. How is she so FAST? 

((Where have you been?? Her Scaliest has missed you! I've had to use Karkles for my pet bait! He scares then off more than he lures them in with all his yapping yapping _yapping._ ))

You put on a fake pout and make a show of patting her hair, ((Aww...poor Karkat.))

((Hey!)) cackling, she shoves you away. ((But seriously! Where have you beeeeen, Dave?)) she swims circles around you, ((Chasing tuna? Exploring the abyss, _collecting pets without me??!_ ))

((No, no, HELL no--stop that your're making me dizzy so not cool--uh. Rezi? What's wrong?)) your friend stops. She's smiling. Smiling that fucking _terrifying_ shark-tooth grin of hers. 

You blink slowly. She drifts closer. Closer. In that moment the reef seems to go quite--the waves above, swishes from the seaweed, scuttling of crabs--even the Voice pauses to listen in, an attentive crowd on the edge of their seats. Terezi leans in, bright green eyes lit up under her ginger halo.

((Who is she?))

Now it's your turn to be silent.

What. What the hell? She--she has to be joking. HAS to. How could she possibly know you were with someone?

((I...what?)) you say, practiced 'I don't care' voice complementing a perfect stone face. You got this Strider.

((Cool kid! Don't play dumb with me _come on I'm your best friend--_ ))

((I wasn't with a 'her.' Who the hell would you even think 'she' was? I mean I know I'm a fine slice of man fish but most of you ladies are taken.)) to emphasize said fine slice you wave a hand over your chest and do a little eyebrow wriggle. She snorts.

((Nepeta?))

((Her crazy 'platonic haha-nope' guard dogfish? No way in hell.))

((Kanaya? Rose?))

((Ew, no , cousins. Plus I'm p-sure Kanaya has a thing for her.))

Rezi deflates, ((Oh. Right. Well damn, Feferi?))

((No!)) your facade slips for a second and you wave your hands--nope, uh uh, not in this big blue sea. Crazy fish chick with a mom who would tear your head off as soon as flick her tail? You'll pass.

((Dave.)) 

You cease your appendage-flailing to look her in the eye. She's frowning, shit. And her eyes are doing that kicked-guppy look, double shit.

((Why are you lying to me? We don't lie to each other, remember? Friendsh--))

((Friendship Pact. I know,)) you sigh and run a hand through your hair. This stupid thing you guys did back when you were five and the only thing you kept from each other were the sparkliest shells you found. You mentally beat the shit out of yourself before floating towards her and embracing in a rare hug, ((I'd never lie to you Rezi. You know that.))

Slowly, you feel her arms wrap around you. She's cool. She's never been that warm, not like you are.

((Yea. Yea, I do, sorry.)) she pulls back, smile restored and gleaming madly, ((Now _come on_ I haven't seen you in like two days and the others in even longer! Let's go visit Karkat and Kanaya! They're at the tide pools.)) with that, you're being pulled away, past the heart if the reef and towards the shore to see your buddies--

But you've never felt shittier in your life.

 

The tide pools are you handout place. Period. It's like, sacred law or some something. Sort of like the Friendship Pact--haha whoes feeling guilty? Certainly not Dave Strider--but more physical. They're a long ways down by the human's stretch if the beach, protected by a mile's worth of crags and sharp as GOD DANG THAT HURT boulders chipped and cracked by the many sediments that bombarded them over the millions of years. Dangerous to curious humans, but a perfect place for young mer to play. Even though you no longer use the deep tides for swim practice and critter collecting, they're still nice to chill without the adults lurking around.

And so you do.

When the two of you get there Kanaya and Karkat are already perched on the edge of one of the deeper pools, tails splishing absently while they talk. Karkat's telepathy is louder than usuall (that's saying something) so he must be pretty excited.

((Kanaya, I'm telling you, pearls. Who doesn't love a fucking pearl? It's LITERALLY a gift that formed for thousands of years, sparkly and portable and practically screaming it's gleaming head off to be loved by some sap. 'PICK ME, PICK ME.' You hear that? That's the sound of yes, Kanaya, fucking do it already.))

((It sounds more like the voice of an overly-enthusiastic merman to me. And aren't pearls a little well...excuse me, cliché?))

((Uh, try romantic as hell.))

You're close enough now to see Kanaya roll her eyes, but only just. Fuck it's bright. And you have shitty eyes but still.

((Told you she was inter Rose.)) you whisper.

((Oh shut up.))

"Yo," you call, wave your arm. You feel Terezi jerk at your side; Karkat and Kanaya flinch.

((Dave? What the actual hell you dipshit, you almost gave me a heart attack.)) Karkat scowls in your direction before waving the two of you over. Kanaya blushes, facial expression conveying a 'sorry for my friend,' kind of look and offers a small smile. 

((Seriously, when'd you start talking cool kid? _I _thought a human had saw us and you're right next to me.)) she punches you lightly in the the arm.__

__Oh. Right._ _

__You shrug, ((Can't a guy mix it up a bit? Keeps you on your toes.))_ _

__((We don't _have_ toes be be up on, smart one.))_ _

__

__((Phhss, details, details karkitty.)) you shoot back, slipping smoothly over the small stretch of damp sand and into the pool. He slaps you with his tail._ _

__Beside you Terezi pops in with a splash._ _

__((What were you guys--well, Karkles--yelling about before?))_ _

__((Oh. That,)) Kanaya blushes sunset read against her porcelain skin, ((I was. I couldn't help decide. You see Karkat was helping me--))_ _

__((Kanaya wants to ask Rose out and get her something pretty, but she didn't know what.))_ _

__((Karkat!)) Kanaya creases her brow and slaps him lightly against his shoulder._ _

__((Well you'd never get around to it, sorry.)) he huffs and sinks a bit in the water._ _

__(('Bout time.)) you offer a small smile to reassure her--poor girl's as shy as a sea snail sometimes-- and pay her back, ((I'd totally go with a serenade though. Sweep my cuz' off her none-existent toes--))_ _

__((Feet--)) Karkat corrects._ _

__((--Whatever. _You would_ know, kitty.))_ _

__You narrowly avoid another fish-fin to the face. One was enough for one day, thank you very much._ _

__Kanaya blushes even harder. ((I. David, I can't sing.))_ _

__((Objection! Her Scaliness calls BS on the prosecution's claim.))_ _

__((I can't sing for other _people._ Much less the one I wish to ask out!))_ _

__((Go with the pearl then,)) you say, sinking in deeper to let the water tickle your chest, splay your arms out beside you. ((She loves sentimental stuff like that.))_ _

__((Seconded!))_ _

__((See? I know my shit.)) Karkat says, the smug bastard. He's even smiling._ _

__((So it's decided!)) you sit up abruptly, splashing karkat. (He sputters, haha.) ((You are going to woo my lovely cousin with the biggest damn pearl a clam can spit. Be good to her, Kanny, treat her like a gem. Or I'll cut you.)) you wrap an arm around her shoulder. She laughs, yes, score one for Dave._ _

__

__The conversation is pretty normal after that. It mostly consists of you and Karkat seeing who can effectively fuck the other over first, flailing, splashing, and Terezi thunking you on the head. Kanaya listens with her Mona Lisa smile, gets a word in when she wants._ _

__Terezi finds a conch shell and plays telephone with Karkat until he insists she's being 'a stupid little guppy' and she tackles him into the sand._ _

__Kanaya scores a red crab trapped in a smaller pool. It makes a fucking _amazing_ lunch._ _

__It's a pretty awesome day._ _

__But then the sun sets, and the pools are slowly swallowed by the rising tides. It's a lazy orange blaze across the sky when you leave, smile barely concealed and stomach full. The four of you wave goodbye and one by one slip under the waves--they're going home. But you?_ _

___You have a human to meet._  
~*~  
The boat rocks gently on the waves, white hull dipping and rising against the dark waters. It's just past sunset, where is he? 

__Carefully, you lean out over the edge of the old dingy. Wind whispers through your hair, briny and cool._ _

__"Dave?"Your fingers dig against the smooth metal._ _

___Splash_ _ _

__"Dave, hey!" Sweet, he made it! You push off, spin around to see him--_ _

__"You really shouldn't be here."_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the story starts rolling! Sorry, no fluff for this one, but it was more of a chapter to move things along. I hope you liked it! More updates to come in the following weeks :)


	6. ==> Dave, be scared shitless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> YAY PROGRESSION

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I UPDATED WHAT HOLY CRAP LOOK GUYS
> 
> I hope this is up to everyone's standards, so sorry I haven't updating in so long. I'm not making anymore promises with updates, but I WILL finish this.  
> Enjoy~

The moon’s at its apex in the sky, perched like a watchful guardian above its sparkling throne. The light spills over the sand and illuminates your house in its milky glow as you approach. Beneath you old Zillyhoo creaks with the stress of the waves, and it almost sounds like its crooning for its resting place beneath the deck. If you could, you’d gladly be asleep. But you’re not, because you’re off the Atlantic coast, returning from a more-than-a-little-disturbing meeting with a creature of legend.

It’s been a pretty shitty night.

_Splshh_

A rough patch of waves send the boat ducking forward and sea water sprays everywhere. Gah! You bite your lip to keep from swearing. Though you try not to, sick curiosity leads your gaze slightly downward, to your hands clutching the paddle in a grip of ice. Four vertical gouges puff up from the left hand, still bleeding and raw. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfu ckf uck—stop thinking about it.

You can’t feel your hand.

_Eyes to the land, Egbert,_ you think, and force your eyes up, away from the fleshy gashes. Push pull, push pull, push pull. The house is close. Your work your muscles raw.

“Shit!” Another wave, another spray of sea water. You cry out in agony—it burns. It burns like fire. Blinking salt form your eyes, you clench your teeth and paddle onward. The burning subsides, your hand throbs. Finally, you can see the finer details of your house, and you almost cry with relief. There’s the door, slightly ajar from where you’d slipped out a little over an hour ago—

Behind you the ocean roars dully. The soft sand folds into soggy sheets as the Zillyhoo touches shore, and you nearly collapse. Home, you made it home, you’re safe, safe. Safe. You mutter a hollow, mirthless laugh. You’re not safe.

_They found me,_ some thought wisps through your head, _As long as I’m here I’ll never be safe._ Graoning, you lift one heavy leg out over the side, followed by the other. You make it about one step before you actually _do_ collapse, face first in fact, into the sand. 

As the world fades to black, a vague thought of mermaids having poisonous claws floats through your drunken head, and the waves behind you crash a hectic rhythm. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it was whispering…

((Leave us))

And you fall.  
~*~  
He wasn’t there.

He wasn’t there, and even though you know that it was probably for the best for your dumb ass, it still doesn’t stop the god awful feeling of being socked in the gut. He promised… _promises from humans don’t mean shit,_ a small voice checks you, and you shove it far away. His promise mattered, you don’t care if you’re arguing with what you know is true. You don’t care if you’re acting like a dumb brat

_You know you are dipshit._

And just to prove yourself right, you thrash your tail angrily and rocket forward. Stupid self, who are you to correct yourself anyway??

((Don’r be sad no no no be happy please be happy you’re home your--))

((Shut the fuck UP!)) you scream, not really caring who can hear you within a half mile radius. Among other bothersome voices in your head, the Reef is one of them, and it hasn’t shut up since you’d discovered John had ditched you. Needless to say, you are so not in the mood. The mood tied its ankles to boulders and dropped itself down into the abyss, the mood is neck-deep in hag fish slime, moaning woe-is-me’s while simultaneously playing a one-man symphony with the world’s smallest _fucking_ violin—  
—Oh hey the Voice stopped.

Thanking whatever god is giving you grace, you plow on through the swirl of midnight blue before you, guided by the distorted, distant light of the moon. Something feels wrong. You stop, absently level yourself, and turn to face behind you. Black. Reach out, test the waters with your right hand. There’s no disturbance with the mass of water around you. Weird. You shrug off the itching feeling and turn to head home. The cave’s not far, five minutes, tops.

You’re fine.

You’re not being followed.

Calm down, Strider, you’re cooler than this.

_Blrblblrbl_

Haha, _nope._

_Nopenopenopenopenopenopenope--_ you are having uncomfortable flashbacks with the boat, with the humans who planned on selling you for fish food.

So me t h i n g is fol lo wi ng y o u.

S o m e t h i n g

I s

W a t c h i n g 

Y o u.  
The _something_ grazes the tip of your tail. And you lose it. 

((BRO!)) You’re thoughts crack through the water like a whip, ((BRO HELP!)) No response. Fuck no predator no no no how did it get this close do you still have your tail? Yes, yes you have your tail you idiot that’s how your swimming at ungodly speeds towards the cave oh the cave how far are you anyways where’s Bro you’re gonna be eaten—“Brrrbbrrooo!—Mblm—” 

Sea water enters your pitiful lungs and in response you _breathe in more water_ because you’re a fucking genius, and next thing you know you’re doubled over coughing. A spray of bubbles erupt up and over your head. It burns, how does water burn? You’re gills dilate frantically, trying in vain to fuel your body with precious oxygen. You can’t stop coughing, you can’t keep swimming, you can’t think.

You can’t do anything. You’re going to die here.

Is this drowning? Who the hell ever thought drowning could be this painful. Water has never been an enemy, never brought you to harm. _I must be the only merman ever to choke on water and die,_ you think. Some poor oxygen-deprived space in your mind muses that only a Strider could die such an ironic death, when suddenly two very strong, very _mer-like_ arms trap you around the waist.

Bro, the bastard, finally show once you’re drowning, why doesn’t he? The water seems to tug around you, though you can’t tell which direction. The strong arms locked around your waist slowly start to turn to jelly against your skin, which now feels weirdly numb.

Your vision starts to fade. _Sorry Bro, you’re too late._

And suddenly, air. Air happens.

You burst through the surface, sputtering, and suck in a lungful of air. Sweet, precious air. Hell yes.

Slowly, slowly, the world comes into focus and your horrible eyes adjust to the pale light of the moon. Though he must be behind you, Bro remains silent as you regain your breathe and still your frantic heart. A minute ticks by. Two. Five. You spin to face him, explanation as to why you were out so late at the ready—

“Aunt Roxy?” you blurt instead, and stare dumbly at the woman floating before you.

She blinks. You blink. She blinks again.

“You’re out late,” she says, as if commenting on the weather. Oh yea, nice night tonight, clear skies, chill current, perfect night to drown.

“I. Uh,” you stutter, “Yea, you see—”

“And you seemed in a real hurry.”

“Well yea I mean. It’s late and,” you nervously scratch your damp mop of hair, “I didn’t want Bro to—”

“Didn’t want Dirky to what? Worry you were out seeing your catch?”

Your stomach hits rock bottom. Shit. _She could be assuming. No one was around when I was with John before, she can’t know. Right? Right._ Play it cool, like you were raised. Cucumber. “Rezi, yea, he knows I chill with her sometimes. We lose track of time and sometimes I forget how late it is.” You plaster on a bored expression and shrug your shoulders. The surrounding water ripples.

Roxy says nothing. Her weirdly pale skin—paler than yours, she almost never leaves home—gleams almost a deathly white under the moon. Her hair, as always, styled in a messy swirl off to the side, sandy blonde and glowing. Her lips are pursed. There are crows’ feet and heavy bags under her eyes, though her pearly pink eyes are scarily alert. Glassy. Like a fish belly-up.

 

You suppress a shiver. Those eyes know something. For a long while, the stares those penetrating eyes right at yours, and it’s all you can do not to squirm. Finally, 

“You never lose track of time. How long since we’ve surfaced?”

“Eight minutes and 38 seconds,” you rattle off, and immediately bite your tongue. Stupid! Stupid stupid dumb Dave! Recover, recover, “But, ya know—just a guess,” you finish lamely, and turn your head slightly to get away from those eyes.

“Bullshit Davey, you got the best since of time this clan’s seen since Aradia.” 

Shrug.

“Yur getting’ quiet on me Davey,” she slurs. Damn, wait, has she been drunk this whole time? You risk a look back at her face. Now you see it; she’s swaying, and her eyes aren’t focused and glassy. They’re glazed. How did you not notice before? Well, usually she’s so drunk off her ass she can’t swim a foot without face-planting, so you figure this is as sober as you’ve seen her.

“Are you…drunk?” 

“Tipsy,” she corrects, sways a little off balance, “None ‘a your business. You’re talking a lot.”

“Yea?...That’s what people _do_ Auntie. Damn, you’re worse than I thought. Maybe I should swim back with you then go home?” You reach out an arm to steady her—the ocean is cruel to the blonde and inebriated. In a startling move, she lurches forward and clasps a cold, clammy claw-like hand to your shoulder. Her eyes are even worse up close. Her breathe reeks of the rotten oysters that inebriate her.

“You are talking,” she whispers, disturbing smile tainting chapped lips, “you are talking ((With your mouth)) she finishes. You swear the water drops twenty degrees colder. Shit.

“I. I was talking ‘cause you were too—”

((You started this conversation. And screaming underwater made you choke inda firs’ place.)) Her grip tightens, unkempt nails digging into your skin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

((You’re still talking. Talking because you’re so used to it now.))

Ffffuck. Mentally executing yourself, you swap into thought, ((What’s that supposed to mean?)) Silence. The water seems to still around you. A cloud passes over the moon. Her irises, so close to yours, becoming terribly lucid. _Is it possible,_ you think, _to hold an ever-after in a single moment?_ An eternity passes, but not an eternity, passes with the beat of your heart and she whispers:

“He will ruin you.”

When the moon’s light reappears, she’s gone.

You are left scared, alone, and horribly frightened in the light of the moon.

 

((I heard my mother gave you quite the fright last nice.))

You scoff, sending bubbles scattering, ((That’s kindof a fucking understatement, Lalonde. She scared the shit out of me.)) Absently, you paw through an open chest and come up with a shiny…thing. It’s crescent shaped and some kind of gold. Rose’s shuffling stops and her head pops up from behind a huge wardrobe.

((That’s a tiara.))

((Huh?))

((It goes on your head, cousin dear,)) she smirks and goes back to rummaging. You roll your eyes and toss it out the gap of the…boat. Boat? It definitely looks like a boat, though clearly dead for years and not deadly at all. No Dave-fin soup for these humans.

((Anyway. She’s so fucking creepy when she’s somewhat sober, snuck up on me and she didn’t even break the _waves._ )) you fold your arms, ((That’s beyond creepy Rose, control your mom, dude.))

((I try to, ‘dude,’ but when she wants to, she has an uncanny ability to completely slip past me,)) you watch her quirk and eyebrow and reach for something, ((Even with my heightened awareness. It’s quite confounding, I must admit—eureka!)) she comes up, smug smile on her face, string of pearls hanging delicately from her fingertips. 

Damn. You forgot about that. That’s how you didn’t notice her till the last second, _and_ , you realize, _Is how she knows about John. She was there the WHOLE time, probably both times—_

And you didn’t even know.

((Eureka?)) You scoff, shaking off the shiver that passes down your spine. No need to worry now at least; she hasn’t told Bro, else. John would be dead. You know this with terrible certainty. And you know he’s not dead because Bro hadn’t kicked your ass to the Pacific. Might as well keep calm, and play it safe with her. She’s obviously not going to tell. If she was, why bother to follow you all the way out to the cliff and talk than tell the clan and have John killed? This thought brings a little peace to your tired mind, although the thought that your Aunt watched you make goo goo eyes at a human for hours makes you a little grossed out, and honestly, violated. 

Seriously, what the fuck?

((Yes, eureka, Dave. An expression used to express a sense of accomplishment or joy at discovering a coveted object or place. English, Dave, do you speak it?)) She smiles coyly and tosses it to you. You catch it in an outstretched hand. Not like she actually threw it. It’s be pretty pathetic if you couldn’t underwater.

((I speak a language called ‘this century,’ you should try it. What’s this for anyways?))

((Not what, ‘who’.)) Rose swims over the wardrobe and brakes gracefully a meter away, poised to swim out through the hole in the side of the ship. She looks expectantly at you. ((Coming?))

((Carry your own shit,)) you dead pan, and send it floating towards her, ((Who is this who?)) You know, but you love to mess with her and—yep, _there’s_ the reaction you wanted. Her chees flush light pink, a strange compliment to her lavender eyes, and her fingers twitch nervously around the necklace.

((If you must know,)) she starts, puffing her chest up and turning away from you, ((It’s for Kanaya. She’s always looking for new treasures to adorn and I thought I’d find one nice for her here—))

((Cut the bull, Lalonde. Pearls are for,)) You drop your volume and wiggle your eyebrows ((Goin’ steady babe.))

With an indignant huff, she swishes her tail, sending you bobbing back and her out of sight.

Haha, Dave 1, Rose…24. But still, it counts.  
~*~  
“Thank you so much Mrs. Godfrey, I’ll be here first thing tomorrow morning!” You smile your best smile at the little old lady and shake her hand (firm, but not too hard, she’s still 78). 

“No problem Jonathan, I’m glad to help your family. Your father was a loyal customer.” Her words are meant to comfort, but instead you feel a twang of sadness. You’re smile must falter, because she hurries to apologize, “I mean. You’re father. He was,” she shakes her head sadly, “he was a good man. I’m sure you are too, really reel in the customers with that handsome face, eh?” she pats your shoulder with a grandmotherly pat.

“Haha, I hope so! See you tomorrow,” with a small wave, you turn and exit the front door of the quaint souvenir shop. The little bell rings behind you.

The walk back home is brief, but nice. After last night, you awoke on the beach just as the sun came up, and were able to sneak back in before Nanna awoke. You bandaged your hand, passing it off as a small gash from handling the boat, and, reluctantly, she agreed not to mother-hen the injury. Thank God, or she would have freaked.

As you walk back, still it throbs. 

No, you are not thinking about it. You reach for your phone (with your right hand) and fish it out of your pocket, flip it open and speed dial Nanna. She’s at the store. It goes to voicemail.

“Hey Nanna,” you say cheerfully, and smile at the sand, “Mrs. Godfrey got me the job. Should keep us stable for a little while until I get something better. See you at home, love you!” _Click._

It’s nice out today; the walk home is bright and warm in contrast with the cold and bitter night before. An involuntary chill runs down our back.

In a few moments the house appears, elegant and stark white against the rugged beach. Your jog up the sweeping porch steps and pause to gaze out over the ocean before bending down to retrieve the house key under the ‘Welcome’ mat. It displays an overly-cheery dolphin waving it’s flipper at you.

“Hello, Joe,” you muse, giving it a salute. As you straighten back up your eyes catch the S.S. Zillyhoo nestled in its spot under the porch. You stare. She seems to stare back. For a split second, there’s a splash of red against the bleached hull and a terrible scream pierces your thoughts. Your chest tightens. Your head can be so cruel.

In a moment you have straightened up, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. You slam the door with a resounding _bang._  
~*~  
((WHAT??))

((Rose beat you to the pearl idea, man.))

((Fucking hell Lalonde,)) Karkat looks ready to yank his hair out when he suddenly pushes off in a cloud of sand.

((Woah, what’s the problem?)) You muse, faintly smirking up at the worried boy.

((I’ve got to get to Kanaya! You’re coming with me—)) He grabs you by the wrists.

((—Heyhey what hell Karkles—))

((—Don’t call me that Strider. You’re coming with me to help write a song for Kanaya to serenade Rose with. It will be impromptu, but fucking _heartbreaking._ ))

((Kar _kat—_ ))

((Shut your face hole.))

Damn, guy has a grip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feedback, good or bad, is always appreciated. Hope you liked it :)


	7. ==> Dave, be a Douche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John tries to distract himself. Dave fucks up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! It's been a long time. Thank you new viewers and old(if you'e still reading) for coming around! Sorry for the shorter chapter. I said I'd finish this aand dangit--
> 
> I will.

"You okay John old boy? You haven’t had your head screwed on straight all morning."

"Huh? I don't know what you're talking about," you look up from the food on your plate--deep-fried jumbo shrimp--and scowl, "I'm perfectly fine, dude."

Jake makes a funny face, then brings a fork up to shovel more coleslaw in his mouth. Eugh. You never saw the appeal to that mushy stuff. After chewing for a few seconds, he jabs the utensil at you and gabs with his mouth wide open, "I call B-esh. You've been shtarin' at your plate for the pasht ten minusht." You cringe when some cabbage flies and lands on the biggest crustacean on your plate.

"Well, now I'm definitely not eating it," you roll your eyes and throw a napkin over it, "Geez, would it kill you to swallow first?"

"Oh, sorry--my bad Johnny boy." Jake looks genuinely sorry and sets down his fork. Ugh, he looks like such a sad puppy. Curse your forgiving nature. 

"No...hey. It's alright. I wasn't really hungry anyways. Hey, I have an idea," you say, pushing up from your boardwalk seat. You quickly pile the plastic utensils in the cardboard box along with the shrimp, "What if we go see that new movie today? It looks pretty awesome, what with the wise-cracking raccoon and all."

Annnddd there it is. Jake lights up like a Christmas tree and bounces up on his heels, "Jolly good idea! _Guardians of the Galaxy_ ? I plum forgot about that one! I hear it's top-notch!" Jake hastily grabs his food and runs over to chuck it in the nearest trash bin. The slaw splatters over the edge. "Oh dammit all." 

You laugh, and you can't help it: he's more of a clutz than you.

"Don't worry about it dude, leave it to the sea gulls." To demonstrate, you pick up your box and "accidentally" flip it over the table. "Woops."

"You nut."

"Hey," you shrug and wrap an arm around his shoulder, "They'll probably like it fried more than me, anyways."  
~*~  
((Karkat, while I must thank you for the friendship that drives your convoluted meddling in my love life, I must insist that you stop. This is--)) Kanaya flushes deep emerald and scrunches her eyebrows. ((Silly.))

(( _Silly??_ )) 

Oh God, now he’s definitely not going to stop. Good job Kanaya.  
You shift on the small boulder you’ve seated yourself and prop your elbows up on your tail. Might as well get comfortable if he’s going to launch into a rant. 

((My plan is not fucking _silly._ It’s a masterpiece! Lalonde won’t be able to keep her grub-muncher off you and it will be perfect in every way. Poetic, even. Green and pink lips locked in passionate combat, sealing off the melodic notes spilling from your mouth that enchanted her in the first place! The sirens of the world will trill in fucking reverence of the moment for all eternity, as I ‘fist pump’ in victory for my musical and romantic genius. You _need me_ , Kanaya, or you two shy fuckers will never get together. Even this douchepickle can back me up. Strider?))

((Huh?)) You look up. They’re looking at you. Why are they looking at you? Aw shit are you supposed to say something? Karkat’s turning a bright shade of red—and yup, you were supposed to say something. 

((STRIDER.)) For not the first time in your life you wonder how Karkat’s gills can flare like that and they haven’t exploded yet. 

((Sorry, man. I give no shits to what you’re saying. Zero, zip, nada,)) you push off from your boulder, up and over your two friends who are seated in the sand below, ((Rose seemed to have the sitch covered, so why are you freaking out? Kan doesn’t want to sing, dude. And I don’t want to be your sexy Strider boulder ornament. Why am I even here? I have an ocean to grace with my red hot presence.)) Before he can respond you flick your tail in one strong arch and shoot out over the low ditch in the reef the three of you were hunkered in. Coral rises up to greet you and just below comes Kanaya’s voice,

((I think we are finished here Karkat. I’m sorry but I’m really not…)) Her voice fades the farther you swim out. Karkat is probably going to chew you out with the fury of a million crabby crabs for ditching his…whatever that was, but hey, not like he hasn’t before. You can deal.

 

The little ditch in the coral isn’t too far from the clan’s central in the reef system. The farther you swim towards the central the more colorful and diverse the life gets, pulsating with life and color and the eternal ebb and flow of the Voice. Little schools of fish part for you and nibble dead scales as you make your way through. Finally, the flowering arms of coral part to the central.

Busy as usual.

Merfolk as various trading points outlining the edges of the colorful openings, carrying shells and jewels and fish traded or caught beyond the reef’s sanctuary. Kids playing catch-the-conch in the center, familiar faces chatting. Higher up along the back border that curves inward in a wall of stone are the caves and homes of the clan’s leaders and elders. They sit just above the coral’s reach and look out beyond all the clan’s territory. This is the heart of the clan. This is your old home.

You…don’t come here much anymore. 

((Dave!)) 

_Ooomph_ A mass of teal collides with you and sends you tumbling into the sand. Gosh dammit. Here comes the—fuck she licked you.

((Rezi! Down girl, fuck.)) you gently push her off, sending her ginger hair flying towards your face. You proceed to choke, again. But this time you breathe in with your gills (you’re smart, you can breathe underwater, that’s totally a thing you can do).

((Mister Cherry Bum, just the merdork I was looking for!)) Your friend grins that terrifying knife-smile of hers and claps her hands, ((I have a whole day planned out for us! Dragon needs a mate and I spied some handsome eel over by the Northern Reef and--))

((Woah woah hold your shit, Pyrope. You want me to go monster huntin’ again?))

((Yes.))

((So. Do you have bait?))

((Not yet.))

((…)) Dammit. ((Is the bait a certain unlucky S.O.B?))

((Yes, yes you are.))

Aw, shit, no, no not again. Uh-uh, no Strider bait you don’t care /how/ much she begs—

((STRIDER. YOU GET YOUR GLUB-FUCKING FISHY ASS BACK HERE AND HELP ME.))

Oh. No. You (and pretty much everyone in the central. The adults all look in shock while the kids go wild.) turn to see a flaming-hot Karkat practically parting the waves, coming straight for you.

((So what was that about sexy Strider bait a mate for your eel dragon sure let’s go no time to waste boy I can’t wait to waggle my eyebrows at a horny tail with teeth let’s go Rezi.))

((I thought you’d never say—AH!))

You’re out of there in ten seconds flat.  
~*~  
Well, who’da thunk fishing for morays could be just as terrifying as before? You did, but the Wrath of Vantas is scarier. Rezi quickly slips the eel into the bag and knots it tight, while the male wriggles and thrashes violently. You sit plopped on your tail on the sand because, hell, that thing almost took your nose that time.

((Do you hear me Terezi?)) you say as you swim past her.

((Ooh, full names, bringing out the big guns.)) 

((I fuckin mean it woman,)) you swish to a stop(smoothly, you might add) and she swirls to meet you.

((Waaaat?))

((I am not fish bait. Fish bait am I not.))

She grins, the psycho. ((Keep telling yourself that, Dave.))

((I will. I will keep telling myself, and you, and the eel, and the whole damn clan because Dave Strider is worth more than just some. Some. Rezi?)) Uhh, are you in trouble? Terezi blinks at you, green eyes bright and calculating. Red alert, red alert. _She’s done it_ you think, _I finally broke her._

She loosens her grip on the bag and the skin bag flutters open, releasing the eel and it slithers away. What the hell?? ((You…)) she says it quietly, so quietly, and swishes forward the smallest of bits. 

((Are you alright? I what? Don’t you remember how hard it was to catch—))

In the next second she’s so close so you, you almost scream. Brilliant green eyes stare right at you. 

((You’re so stupid, Dave.))

And she kisses you. And kisses you. And kisses you.

And you

Kiss back.

You don’t know how long. Time seems to have thrown itself in a whirlpool. She’s. She’s kissing you, Terezi. And you’re kissing back and—fuck. John. John.

And despite that you find her hands sliding up our sides, tickling your gills and making them flush. She moans. Wait, was that you? You moan, and bubbles slip out between your working lips. But. John. 

Then her touch is gone.

((Wow…)) she whispers. Her eyes are wide. Sparkling. Cheeks flushed teal and deep. ((See you…see you later Dave. I’ve got to get home…))

Then she’s gone. And you’re alone. 

What the hell just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun with this and I'm not sorry. More to come ;D


	8. ==> John, be the Main Character for a Bit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet memories of life at last I've found thee~ *opera voices increase*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOM two in one day. They are both kinda short, so I figured I might as well pump the next one out as compensation for my lousy updating as of late. Hope you like it!

“Bye Mrs. Godfrey!”

“Goodbye Jonathan! Have a nice night, dear.”

You smile and wave at the little old lady when you exit the shop. Home is a quick jog away; you’re there in minutes, paycheck in pocket and a smile on your face. Reach under mat, grab key, unlock door. It’s late, but not too late—Nanna should be home from shopping by now, you can only hope she didn’t have enough time to bake a—

“Cake!”

“Don’t hurt me!” you flinch, meerkat style.

“I forgot flour for a cake! Oh, darn it all.” 

You open an eye and almost deflate with relief.  
“Hi Nanna, I’m home!”

“Oh, Jonathan, hello! How was work?” Nanna’s voice floats from the kitchen, along with tantalizing smells of who-knew-what. 

“Mmm? Oh, good. Got my paycheck…” you say, absently slipping off your shoes and removing your apron to hang on Nana’s coat-rack, “Nanna, what _is_ that? It smells amazing!” the walk from the living room to the kitchen is far too long. Who thought to separate man from food so much? It is a travesty.

“Roast beef in the crock pot with carrots, onions, and pepper,” Nanna stands by the counter and prods what you are to believe is juicy meaty goodness in her enormous crock pot. Do not drool. You are stronger than the beef, “But I forgot to get flour so I can’t make desert….”

“Ohhh, nooo, really? Too bad,” lean over to get a good look at the roast when BAM wack on the back. “OW. Nanna?”

“Nope, no dinner till you eat your desert. I’m going to the store to get flour. Don’t you touch it.”

“But _Nanna_ -”

The old woman is down that travestic-ly long hallway faster than she should be able to and out the door with a slam before you can finish. Why can’t your grandma be like a mom for once? You stare longingly at the roast. Oh to love, and be denied of love. Yet another travesty. 

You bid goodbye to your lover and stalk out of the kitchen. Stupid cakes. 

Dad’s recliner is a welcoming comfort after a long day of servicing grumpy tourists. Well, to be fair, they aren’t all grumpy when they come it—it’s the prices that do it. “Sigh…as much as I hate to admit it, I think I liked fishing better…” you wince. Dave. Almost simultaneously your left arm begins to throb rhythmically, and you look down at the bandage. It’s raised quite a few eyebrows, but your boat accident story has quieted any curious viewers. 

_As long as I keep it bandaged,_ you think, and bite your lip. _no one would believe me if they saw the scratches…_

“Bah.”

Resigning not to dwell on it, you hop out of the chair and look around the room. Same old, same old. Dad’s ashes on the mantel over the fireplace. Nanna’s chair in the corner. Paintings of underwater paradise and pictures of long gone friends. You can still remember their names, how could you forget them? This is home. This is familiar. 

_This is normal._

And yet. Here you are. By yourself, with four gashes at least a centimeter deep running down your arm. 

_What is normal?_

You decide you don’t know. 

You then decide to look out your bay windows. They are right across from the chair, so it’s no big deal. The ocean is out there, roaring duly and rocking, the moon’s faithful marionette. You used to think that was normal. You used to think the ocean was blue and the tides were strong and familiar and that would never change. But you were wrong. The ocean can be crimson with blood and swirl into fuchsia. Its tides can part, break free of the moon’s strings and heave monsters from its depths. Those waves hold untold dangers, untold stories. 

No, stop thinking like that. You are not going to think like that. And yet…

The walk outside is brief. You find yourself standing beneath the porch of your house before you even realize where your feet have led you. Zillyhoo rests in the place you left it; the ole’ hidey hole beneath the house. It’s bleached hull gleams eerily in the dull light. Well, almost white. Just on the lip is your bloody hand print.

You must have forgotten to get that one. 

Frowning, you bend down to rub it off and—

“FUCK!” the world tilts. You fall, crashing, your knees hit the sand and—now you’re on your side, screaming. What is this? What is this? 

“ _WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS??_ ”

Your head hurts. So bad. It’s going to split, you feel it—a scream. A scream. High-pitch, like a thousand violins, screaming, it’s so sad, _she’s_ so sad. 

No. It’s

You’re screaming.  
You’re screaming.

_Wake up_   
_P L ea sE_

_W A k E m E UP_

“Jonathan!” 

And it stops. Wake up. Open your eyes. Someone is calling your name. Your name? Yes, your name.

“John!!”

“N-Nanna?” You open your eyes to the dim light of the moon filtering through the floorboards. Nanna is here. She looks horrible.

“Nanna? You look horrible.” 

_Smack_

“Ow!” you say, rubbing your cheek. You sit up in the sand and squint into the darkness. “Ok, ok, sorry, that was rude I—” but before you can say more she’s wrapped her arms around your neck and is squeezing the life out of you. 

“Don’t you _ever_ ,” she sobs, “Ever scare me like that again.”

You are stunned. Did she. See you like that? But the store was at least 15 minutes away how did she get back so fast? Unless.   
_How long was I out of it?_

Numb and confused, you reach up to hold your sobbing Nanna, and pat her gently on the back.  
“I’m sorry Nanna…I’m sorry!” The horrible screams of that woman still echo in your thoughts, and you begin to cry too.  
~*~  
“What happened to Dad?” You ask. 

Nanna stops washing the dishes. She turns, and looks at you with sad blue eyes. There are wrinkles under her eyes, you notice. Many more than you’ve ever realized. Are they from you? Are they from Dad? _And how many more will there be_ you wonder darkly.

She finishes with the plate—sticky from gravy—and hands it to you to put it in the dishwasher. You take it and place it in an open spot, then lean carefully (your arm still hurts) back against the wall until she’s ready to speak. No need to stress her any more…you’ve done enough.

An uncomfortable silence passes. For a moment she looks up at you, and her clear cyan eyes hold so much love, so much pain. You find yourself wanting to cry; but there’s been enough of that. 

“You’re father…loved the sea,” she finally sighs, “very much. He went out there every day he could, nights, even, ever since he was a little boy.” Here she pauses. She looks at you, a strange expression on her face. Regret? Maybe.

“He…he had a friend, he always talked about her. ‘She lives right across the rocks,’ he’d say. A little girl he’d row to out on that old boat, every day. Every day…I never saw her. I never met her, never talked. I thought, if he wants his old mother to see her,” she choked, “she’d meet me. He talked about her all the time, from the time he was a teen to the time he was a man,” Nanna smiles. There. That’s happiness. You can see that from a mile away.

You push off the wall and approach slowly. Nanna does nothing but shudder when you hold her and lean down to rest your chin on her shoulder.

“What happened, Nanna?” you whisper.

“I don’t know. For a while, he stopped seeing her. I thought he was over her. He met a girl, married—it was very rushed—and had you. But she wasn’t Her. She wasn’t really his. She came, she left, and left you when they divorced.”

You already knew this. 

“He said his heart could never let go of that girl across the rocks. And. And one day he left and…washed back on shore. Zillyhoo untouched. Blood everywhere….” Her voice dropped to a whisper, and her arms clenching tightly on your shirt, “and the happiest smile on his face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry. Story progression continues.


	9. ==> Dave, do the Thing with your Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave's a pretty suave guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES, INTERNET. I HAVE ATTEMPTED THE VERY RARE AND VERY DANGEROUS UPDATE 3X COMBO

((Bro?)) The swim back home was a long, lonely one, and gave you plently of time to think about what the fuck just happened. You just hope to God he’s not there—you don’t exactly feel like putting up with his BS right now. Sure, you’re a Strider and you can handle anything but…this is proving. Difficult.

((Sup?))

_Ugggghhhh_

Bro emerges from the depths of the cave, Lil Cal doll puppet demon thingy in hand. (Demon, totally a demon. You have spoken. Well, thought-spoken.) He quirks an eyebrow before setting it down. ((What’s up lil man?))

((I…don’t want to talk about it.)) You sigh, sending bubbles up everywhere, and swim a little ways in before collapsing on your favorite sand pile. Ah, Sandy. It never fails to comfort.

You feel Bro mentally shrug. ((Alright then. I’m going into the abyss now.)) You hear him begin swim past you. Da fuk?

((Ey!)) You prop your head up and look at him. Oh, God, now you’ve gone and gotten his attention why do you do this to yourself bad Dave stupid Dave. Bro stares for about 10 seconds before—

((Ey, what?))

Well, no going back now Strider. ((You’re just gonna leave? I come in huffy and puffy an blowing down houses and you don’t want to know what happened with the pigs? Show the pigs some respect, man, their stories deserve to be told. They died honorably, and with respect; who are you to deny them their eulogies?))

((…What happened to the pigs?))

You groan (bad idea, more bubbles), and right yourself with a flick of the tail. ((I,)) well, shit, this is hard to say. You grab at your hair ((Rezi kissed me. And I kissed back.)) There. You said it. Exhausted, you slump over against the cave wall. Water shifts in from of you. You look up.

((What are you doing.)) 

((Bump me bro.))

((What.))

Bro extends his fist farther. Oh God dangit.

((No! No this is _not_ a fist bump moment what is wrong with you?? Can’t you see I’m distressed??))

Bro blinks. His expression doesn’t change, but he asks, ((Why?))

Well, hell. That’s a hard answer. Not to mention a potentially dangerous one…you can’t help but shift your gaze of the countless weaponry lined behind Bro on the wall. You feel your gills start to flush.

((Don’t _make_ me reiterate, Elizabeth.))

Bro, please.

((I…don’t know if I like her. But--))

((But?))

You bow your head ((Fuck, Bro, I kissed her back.)) Silence. You count past the seconds. Two. Five. Fifteen. Slowly, you lift your head up to look at your brother. He’s still there, still stone faced, still very orange. ((Bro?))

((Can’t say I can help you lil man. This is your own fuckup to fix.)) and just like that he turns to lea—hey hey hey! 

((Bro! You. You don’t have anything to say that could even _remotely_ help me out here? Please, man, don’t leave me hanging.)) that last part came out pitifully desperate. Pull it together Strider.

((Just be honest.))

And then he’s gone, sucked into the black of the abyss.

 _Right, because I’ve been doing_ so _much of that lately_.  
~*~  
You make sure Nanna is asleep before heading out. It’s late; very late. But you don’t care. You want questions answered, and now.

The Zillyhoo gleams white at ever once you drag it out from under the porch. You shove it out towards the water and your arm stings with the effort.

_I’m going Dad. _  
~*~  
((I’m going out.)) You announce, and rise from your pile of sand. Soft sand, sweet sand. You could write poetry about your sand. But now is not the time. Hell, it’s never the time to write poetry about sand.__

__((Don’t die.))_ _

__((Ok.)) Up and out over the rocky precipice. Your destination? The Cove.  
~*~  
It was a long and uneventful row over, thank whatever God is watching down on you. Zillyhoo slides silently along the smooth waves tonight, cutting through the water without a sound. Even the wind seems on your side, tickling your hair and guiding the boat along the coast. A light salty spray speckles your cheeks and you squint in the darkness. _ _

__There. That’s where you want to be._ _

__It’s almost pitch-black when you reach the Cove. You have no idea how you’ll see to get home. For a moment you berate yourself for such an impulsive move—it’s overcast tonight, and the moon is completely shrouded—and you came out here anyways. Oh well, you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it._ _

__The little gap in the rocks proves hard to work past without some magical fish help, and you have to jump out into the shallow waters on the other side to get into a position you can work ZIllyhoo through. It takes a few minutes of struggling, but you manage; she creaks through, no scratches (you hope. You still can’t really see)._ _

__Boy who would’ve thought you were so good at wading. Who is the wading king? You are the wading king. It takes a good minute or so to get any footing, and from there you haul Zillyhoo up the shallow end until she reaches land. With a creek, she settles in the soft sand and lays anchor. You decide to flop in the sand as a reward for your hard work._ _

__On your back, in the secluded Cove, you look up at the stars. Or, you try to. Too many clouds. But you wonder if the stars look down at you. Or, maybe up, from their perspective. You figure one might never know._ _

___I’m here, Dad. Now what?_ _ _

__No answer, of course._ _

__“Now what?!” you scream, pushing yourself up from the sand. For some reason. For some reason—_ _

__You are very sad._ _

__“Now what, Dad? I’m here! This is the place, isn’t it? This is the place, right??” You push of from the shore and throw hand in the air, “So tell me already!” Silence. Zillyhoo shudders against the waves. Well. This is it._ _

__You fall to your knees. Your glasses slip from your ears and onto the sand. You look up to the sky and choke out, “What the hell do I do?”_ _

__“You could…stop screaming at the sky for one?”_ _

__You freeze. Stand up. Turn._ _

__A single cloud parts, shooting a line of silver up the Cove’s beach. Sitting on a rock. Ruby tail swishing in the tidal pool. Blond hair plastered to his temples. Eyes shockingly, achingly red._ _

__“Su—” Dave opens his mouth to speak but you’ve already propelled yourself up the beach, leapt into the tide pool and very literally knocked him of his rock. The two of you land with a splash in the shallow waters, water spraying up at your face. Somewhere you register that yes, salt water in your eyes burns, but you really couldn’t give a flying fuck._ _

__Dave’s eyes are sound as plates, cool-kid façade crumbled away. He seems about as shocked as you. The sliver of moonlight only gives you a small window to take him in—pale and freckled, thin but lined with lithe muscle, gorgeous eyes, vulnerable—_ _

___No, not vunrable,_ you think, remembering your arm, _deadly.__ _

__He’s still staring. Your gaze moves towards pearly white lips. He’s saying something, stuttering. They’re moving but you don’t really hear him. Ha, you’ve got his number, he’s not nearly as calm and collective as he makes out to be. It’s almost—_ _

__“Cute.”_ _

__“—and seriously w-whats a guy gotta do around here to—‘scuse me?”_ _

__“Cute,” you murmur, and lean down lower, “I think. You’re very cute.”_ _

__And you kiss him._ _

__Fireworks do not go off. The heavens do not open up to sing praise. The moon doesn’t even part all the way—in fact, a cloud passes over and shrouds you in darkness. But you don’t care; you’re eyes are closed anyways._ _

__You do however burn. Something in the pit of your belly that spreads to your chest, then your cheeks, then your lips. The burning isn’t painful, and it’s not unpleasant. Your lips mash in a frantic lock, hands scrabble at places to hold onto. You feel his sides, where his gills are flaring something awful. Slightly put off, you run your hands higher to his shoulders, then back down to his tail—Dave shudders. Oh, is he saying something? You—you really should let him say something—_ _

__You pull back from—oh, hell, were you straddling him?—and sit up nervously._ _

__You can’t see him, but you feel him push up. His tail slides out from between your legs a little, but not much; it alone is about as long as you are tall._ _

__“Wow…” he breathes._ _

__“I’m. I’m sorry. Fuck man that was way out of line and I am _so_ sorry on _so_ many levels and—” You feel his hand slide up against your cheek. It’s smooth, flawless—just like his skin felt before._ _

__“Don’t. Be sorry man,” he laughs nervously, “Just… a little slower ok?”_ _

__Thank God he can’t see the shades of red you’re blushing right now. You say something, but nod, then remember he can’t see you, so you mutter a feeble ‘ok.’_ _

__“Slide up some?”_ _

__You comply, and are greatly rewarded.  
~*~  
Man, if you’d know giving John such simple advice as to not to scream at the sky would do this, you would have done so a long time ago._ _

__His lips are somewhat rough on yours— _Not like Rezi’s_ \--you think guilty. But you push that thought far from your mind because _hey_ he is putting his hands fuckin everywhere. _ _

__John seems to kiss with wild abandon, almost desperately. His hands search for—something, you don’t know what—and andandand gillsfuck gills. You try to let him know those are really sensitive and he is doin some pretty freaky stuff but his hands have moved on now and you can focus more on. On. Ok this is stupid._ _

__You try to tell him to move a bit. Holy hell he hears you. As if by magic, John leans up. You tell him to slow it down. You want it sweeter. You want to _feel_ this magic dammit. The human boy scoots up farther on your tail so you can get a better hold of him. And you do._ _

__You make the first move, because like hell you’re going to be the woman in this relationship. Relationship? Fling? Who the fuck cares._ _

__You bring your hand to the base of his neck at his collar and bring it up behind his head to pull him in. Your other hand holds the small of his back. John yelps a little—fuckin adorable—before resting his hands around your waist, safely away from any gills. You kiss him slowly and softly, and he kisses you back, lips working to find a rhythm. Once you’ve got it you go a little farther and grab onto his lower lip gently with your lips and suck. He makes some sort of noise, you’re not quite sure what is, but _you want to hear more of it_. You stay like this a while before he pulls back a little, before turning his head and coming back in. His tongue plays at you lips._ _

__“Want in?” you breathe. You see him nod faintly in the dark, and part your lips._ _

__You’ve never felt better in your life.  
~*~  
Minutes go on, wordless minutes of lips and murmurs and magic. You decide it must be magic. How else could this be possible? Finally (phhsss, who are you kidding) you pull back, breathing hard. Through the dark you can faintly see Dave’s eyes. His breath comes heavy. He smells like seawater,_ _

__“Am I dreaming?”_ _

__“Nope,” you think you see him…smile? Holy shit, “You just kissed yourself a bona fide Strider.”_ _

__You smile back, “That’s great.”_ _

__And then you start to laugh. You laugh lightly, happily, and for the first time in a long while you feel right._ _

__“What? Why are you laughing?” he sounds worried._ _

__“Because; what the hell are we going to do now?”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued :D


	10. Dave>>>Be Concerned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave is a sloppy kisser; John is bad at keeping secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And after a 2-year hiatus; it returns. Hope you enjoy :)

"Dave?"

"Mm?"

"This is crazy."

"When did you realize that? When you met a merman or when you smooched a merman?"

"Dave," John snorts and lightly shoves the heel of his hand against your chest, "you know what I mean."

You grunt in acknowledgment. 

Yea you know what he means. Fuck, you've known what this whole situation meant as soon as your dumb ass decided to take the chance and swim up to his boat three nights ago. You're a traitor, a freak, an idiot--the list goes on. You and him are crazy. A human and a merman are crazy. Him in your clan's most secret safe-place is crazy.

But hell if his slightly cooler figure pressed against yours make it feel worth it.

"Look, John: butt buddy, spring fling, mannish-type lover--"

"--Boyfriend?"

Fuck was that a yelp that just bubbled it's way up your throat? No, certainly not, yelps are in no way cool-kid like behavior.

"...Boyfriend," the word rolls around on your ill-used tongue and hey, whaddaya know, it feels pretty good, "Trust me, me of all people know how fucking ludicrous this is. I'm not even sure if this is me going through some kinda messed up rebellious teenager thing, going against, you know every law put in place ever to keep my fishy ass a secret. This is more than crazy," you absently run your hand through your hair--it tangles, ow-- "it's. It's. It's like sanity took a swimming plunge over the abyssal plane and into the jaws of a goblin shark that swam immediately after inter a thermal vent and burst into underwater flames. It's a guppy making friends with a mako, an oyster saying howdy-fuckin-do to a sea-star, a--"

"Boy you sure do talk a lot for someone who spends 90% of his time underwater." 

"Just be lucky I can't tele-speak to you, you'd have my silky Strider vocals making sweet fishy-love to your brain."

You can't see his expression, but judging by the way he thumps your chest you'd bet it's either amused or grimacing.

"Gross."

Grimacing, yep, definitely grimacing.

"Admit it, you love the idea of my voice in your head; cooing sick nasty poetry to your temporal lobe--ah fuck!"

In a off-puttingly fluid motion, John untangles himself from your tail (how strong is he your tail is 5-feet of pure muscle), pushes you back against the sand, and locks you in place by your wrists.

You...are very okay with this. Composure, Strider, composure.

"Shut the hell up and kiss me, you dork."

Hell if he doesn't lock lips before you can spit back something witty.  
~*~  
Dave talks to much. 

Way too much, you decide, and pin him down against the sand. There goes those eyes again; wild with expression, totally betraying his cool-kid façade. Man he's adorable. 

Yea, the hetero-boat sank at sea hours ago. Maybe even days ago. You're not sure exactly what this means for you, but honestly you could care less at the moment.

Existential crisis later. Hot mer-guy now.

Dave is also a clumsy kisser. Or, maybe it's you; honestly you can't tell, it may very well be you with your monster buck teeth but either way he doesn't seem to mind. 

Your hands have Dave's wrists pinned in place but they soon find themselves traveling the length of his sides. You tread carefully, stop just below his arms and just above the naval region where his tough skin gives away to feathering gills. Last time you reached for them Dave got hot and bothered and only slightly freaked out so you're assuming they are off-limits for now. You guess that it would be the equivalent of someone feeling up your lungs and--wow way to think non-sexy thoughts John. 

What were you doing again?

Dave takes your lapse in concentration to pull a 180, grabbing your waist and flipping you over with surprising strength so that it's you belly-up against the cool sand and him over top, tail weighing against your legs and landing with a *splash* into the edge of the tide pool. 

Oh. Ok.

You tilt your head to get a better angle but Dave breaks away and goes for your neck instead.

Well, for someone who wanted to go slower this isn't what you were expecting but hey, who are you to complain?

A gasp escapes your lips and yes, complaining is a very dumb idea, this is more than alright, and how does he know to kiss your neck when he has gills on his but ya know you're just not gonna question that right now anyways so  
~*~  
"Ow, fuck!" John jerks and tears his arm away. You heave yourself away, fuck fuck you were going too fast, way to go you giant fishy hypocrite now he's probably horrified and--

You look at the arm John is clutching where you'd squeezed a hand only moments earlier and see a thin bright red stream trickling from the strange material he's wearing. His eyes are screwed shut with pain and he's breathing fast, fuck did you cut him? You didn't think your nails were that sharp but

You feel a damp warmth against the palm of your hand and look down. That is most definitely blood.

"John take off your thingy, right now," the voice you hear sounds foreign and panicked, not one that you've ever made, telepathic or not. Fuck composure, that is way too much blood for you to have drawn. 

"My...my what?" John looks up at you, eyes watered with pain. 

"The thing you have on your body that makes no Godly sense, the thing that is soaked with your blood take it off now."

"My shirt?" 

"I don't care what it is, take it off."

He smiles, straining, "you really should take me on a date first."

"Goddammit, Egbert," you grab the white--shirt--by the bottom and peel it off; it's wet and sticky with sea water. John whimpers a bit as it slips off his arm but visibly relaxes once it's gone. He clutches his arm as soon as its left.

"I'm fine."

"Bullshit, lemme see."

"Dave, no, I'm--ah!" You have no time for this fuckery. Your human is hurt and that is not ok. Your human. When the fuck did you start thinking that? Carefully, you take his hand and yank it back.

"Shit." Four deep, vertical gashes run from the bottom of his shoulder to the crease is his elbow, puffy and swollen with dark purple bruises along the edge. Blood oozes from the nasty wound, bright red and fresh.

You look up into concerned, sky-blue eyes. He's biting his lip with those buck teeth of his and smiling nervously.

"Haha, nasty scratch huh?"

"Who did this." Statement. Not a question.

"Tourists get pretty crazy when we run out of tacky key chains--"

"--John--"

"--You ever see a 70-year-old tackle someone? Lemme tell you it would have actually pretty great if it hadn't of been me--"

"--This is not fucking funny." Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. No creature left this kind of mark. Nothing excluding the mythical variety. It had to be someone from the clan. It had to be. Someone hurt John and it was all his fault.

Great job, Dave. Great fucking job.

Silence. The waves behind them lapped carelessly into a quiet nothing. The lichen-covered cliffs around them echoed nothing but the ocean's silent judgment and the rapid panting of two forbidden, stupid kids. Seconds ticked by. Finally,

"It was a woman. A mermaid. Last night. She told me not to come back."

Roxy.

"And why did you?"

You look into those eyes. Those aching gorgeous, painted-blue eyes. Those eyes grimacing against the pain, smiling with his lips trying so hard to mask the pain of the newly-exposed wound.

He gives up, sighing heavily, and frowns.

"I don't know. My. My dad's old boat," he gestured with his good arm at the hunk of metal bobbing with the waves behind the two of you, "my dad, I. You. This place. I just had to."

"Fuck, John," You growl, frustrated, and run a hand back through your tangled hair, "just. Fuck. I knew this was dumb. I knew coming here was dumb, talking to you was dumb. After she talked to me last night--"

"She?"

"Roxy. My batshit drunky aunt. She's the one who did...this," you gesture helplessly at his arm, "you're lucky she didn't fucking gut you," you pause. In your minds eye you see Bro.

"...anyone else would have. This is bad. We need to get you back, you can't come back here like, ever. You never saw a Strider, you never met a Strider--" 

gulp

"--you never kissed a Strider."

"Hey. Hey, hey," John grabs your arm with his good limb and squeezes, "I'm 17. I'm not a kid. I think I know the danger I'm putting myself in right now. This is not a mistake. We. Are not a mistake," John smiles weakly, "just tell me my arms not gonna fall off or anything and I'll be ok, ok?"

Damn that smile. You are weak for that smile. 

"Fine you stubborn asshole. If you wind up dead I'm gonna go--"

"All Romeo and Juliet on my ass?" He smirks.

"Cute, you're already trying to finish my sentences. I don't know what that is but sure, let's say that so I don't go off on a spectacular rant to rival Vantas."

"Who?"

"No one. Now get your buck-toothed butt over here Egderp," you say, awkwardly land-flopping your way from the edge of the pool back to the lip of the cave.

Wow. Land-flopping. That's a new one.

"We need to get that shit disinfected."

"Disinfected?" behind you, you hear John shift and bound up across the sand. Man, legs. Those must be nice. No land-flopping required, "with what?"

"The ocean, smart one."

"The ocean? But. But. It hurts." he's next to you now, towering over your laid-out form on the sand. You flop past the shallows and into the sea's embrace, right yourself, and turn to face him.

You shrug, "the sea heals all wounds, man. It'll hurt like hell, but it'll do the job. Unless..." you quirk an eyebrow, "you want me to refer to my boyfriend as 'stumpy the buck-toothed wonder boy'."

"You're an ass."

"An ass who cares. Now suck it up and flash those biceps."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My boyfriend convinced me to continue this haha, and tbh I'm glad he did. Hope my y'all enjoyed. Look forward to more in the near future.

**Author's Note:**

> I've really taken a liking to JohnDave (But JohnKat still tops the list). Should you expect more to this fic?  
> Yes.
> 
> Heck yes.


End file.
